Professor Layton and the Anomalous Entity
by Larkwings
Summary: When Layton and Co. receive a letter prompting them to investigate the disappearance of some important artifacts in Monte d'Or, they stumble into a dangerous situation involving relentless thieves, nightmares and an old legend that threatens everyone. To worsten matters something has put Emmy at odds with the case and Layton will need his assistant if he is to succeed. Contains LxE
1. Two Letters

Chapter 1: Two Letters

It was a fine day in London, and Professor Hershel Layton of Gressenheller University was taking the time to catch up on some must needed sleep. He was up most of the night marking essays for his archeology class, who were a good bunch of student, and to keep them waiting any longer would be most unfair. He'd had the papers for nearly a week now, but life took a most stressful turn with staff meetings and a new shipment of artifacts to be verified before being taken to the museum. Truth be told Layton's presence at the staff meetings was questionable, but the artifacts had been enough to distract him from his professor duties.

_And this is why Dean Delmona hired you an assistant,_ Layton groaned as he rolled over on his office couch. Thoughts of his young assistant flooded his mind.

Emmy Altava was a bright and feisty young woman, a little hot headed at times, but a wonderful assistant. She kept Layton on track, so that he actually remembered to attend staff meetings and go home once in a while. Unfortunately she'd taken a sudden personal leave this past week to spend time with family, and hadn't been there when Layton needed her most. Layton had been a bit worried when she'd phoned him last week explaining that she needed to take a few days off and apologized for the short notice. But she had a life of her own to lead, and Layton couldn't blame her for living it. Besides he often pulled the same thing to help his friends.

_Although it would have been nice for Luke to have some company_, Layton thought. Luke had not minded looking over the artifacts with the Professor, however having to spend last night on the couch while he marked essays was hardly fair to the young boy. Neither was leaving Luke to his own devices while Layton tried to take a nap.

Feeling rather guilty the Professor rose from the couch and peered out the window. Outside was young Luke Triton, watering the flowers and talking to a sparrow that had settled on his cap. The boy seemed happy for the moment. Layton smiled and returned to his restless sleep.

_Oh bother, the mail!_ He scolded himself. In the excitement of the week Layton forgot to check his mailbox, yet another task Emmy usually looked after. He considered running down to get it now, but a great yawn escaped him, reminding Layton that running on two hours of sleep was no good at all.

He would send Luke to fetch it later.

* * *

"Professor?"

Layton awoke to a loud rapping on his office door.

"Professor are you in there?"

"Yes come in," Layton sat up groggily, "the door's unlocked."

A young woman in a yellow trench coat walked into the office tripping over a stray box on the floor before catching her feet. "I see you've been busy," she said. "Where's _second assistant_?"

It took a moment for the Professor's sleep-deprived brain to register Emmy, who was standing in the doorway with a week's worth of mail in her arms. He hadn't expected her to be back so soon –she was supposed to be off for a few more days. He quickly straightened his orange shirt and infamous top hat, for a gentleman should always look presentable, especially in the presence of a lady. He blushed slightly at the state of his office. "Yes, it's been a hectic week I'm afraid. It will be nice to have you back."

Emmy's eyes wandered over the papers and boxes of artifacts that littered the office floor. Rosa had scolded Layton many times about his lack of cleanliness when it came to his research. "Someone'll break their neck one day on a lose paper or book!" Rosa had lamented the last time she'd seen his office. Perhaps she wasn't wrong with Emmy's near tumble over the boxes.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left on such short notice. It looks like you've had a hectic week. " Emmy stepped around the various things on the floor. "What is all this?"

"A new collection for the museum," replied Layton putting a kettle on the stove. Some tea would do him wonders. "Chappy asked me to take a look at everything before it went on display. There are some fine pieces here, a Barthalul artifact if you can believe it." He pointed to a stone disk in a crate. Emmy bent down to look at the non-descript engravings around its edges. "Do you know Barthalul?"

A look of momentary surprise overcame Emmy's face. "Yes," she said. "He was an Azran philosopher and they say he knew all the secrets of the ancient world. He kept everything locked up behind an impenetrable door that could only be opened with an unknown key. But no one knows it's location or if it even exists."

Emmy sure knew her archeology, but Layton couldn't help but notice the strained tone to her voice. It was odd to his ear as he'd never heard her so uncertain before.

"Yes, that's right. Would you like tea my dear?"

Emmy nodded and Layton pulled out two teacups from the drawer. "The five Barthalul artifacts are said to be the keys to opening that Door and revealing the knowledge of the great man. Of course this is all just a theory, considering the fact that as you said, Barthalul's Door may be nothing more than legend. It's still wonderful that we're able to have a piece like this here in London."

Layton handed Emmy a piping hot cup of tea to which she replied with a lovely smile and a "Thank you Professor," and took a sip.

"I must admit I'm surprised to see you back so soon, I wasn't expecting you for a few more days. I do hope your visit went well."

Her usual upbeat air vanished again. "Oh, yes everything was fine." She looked down, avoiding his eyes. "I just, decided that I better get back to you and Luke… before you get a notice about departmental meeting absences again!" She managed a forced smile.

"Yes, those have been a bother." There was something Emmy wasn't telling Layton, but she obviously didn't want to share, and to press on would be rude on his part…but she was obviously upset.

_Oh relax Hershel, she's probably just tired from the drive home. If anything is seriously wrong she'll tell you when she's ready._

He sipped his tea. "The mail has been an issue too, thank you for bringing it in-"

"Emmy!" came a shout as Luke burst through the door, and ran towards them, weaving around the mess on the floor as if it were second nature. "You're back! I missed you! The Professor spends too much time at the office when you're not here."

This was true. Layton, Luke and Emmy frequently went out for dinner or to the park after a day of work, or simply back to Layton's for a cup of tea. At the very least the Professor and Luke would return home for the night, mainly thanks to Emmy's many reminders to take a break.

"I missed you too _second assistant_," Emmy smile and playfully ruffled the boy's hair.

"I've told you before, and I'll tell you again I'm the Professor's _apprentice number one_!"

Emmy giggled and gave Luke a playful shove, back to her fun-loving self.

"Professor you've got a letter!" Luke said waving an envelope he pulled from the pile of mail Emmy brought in. The boy ran to Layton's desk to grab a letter opener and then back to Layton, the utensil swaying carelessly in his hand and almost hitting Emmy in the face.

"Watch it Luke, you nearly took my eye out," Emmy scolded, "I don't think that would be very gentlemanly now would it Professor?" She flashed him a grin as Luke opened the envelope and handed Layton the letter. _How could she be so unsettled one minute and perfectly fine the next?_ Layton pondered.

He looked at his young apprentice. "Now Luke, a gentleman must always be careful when handling pointed objects." This garnered some stifled laughter from Emmy, who was obviously catching something he'd missed, and frankly cared not to know. Thankfully whatever it was blew straight over Luke's innocent head; the boy was staring at the young woman with confusion smeared across his face. She was so immature at times.

Layton cleared his throat, ending Emmy's giggles, and read the letter out loud:

_Dear Hershel Layton,_

_I know this isn't the best of time to be asking so much of an old friend, as I'm sure University life is in a riot at this point in the year, but I'm in desperate need of help. I'm working on a dig site near the Akbadain ruins and we've stumbled on a superb archeological find. You'll love it Hershel! But that isn't what I need your help with._

_ You see, we've had a real problem with artifact cataloguing, and it seems a very important piece has gone missing. I fear it may be an inside job. _

_ It is of the outmost importance that this artifact be returned. I would ask the help of local authorities, but I hear you were a much greater asset when it came to solving the Mask Gentleman case a few months ago. Please come out, and help an old friend._

_ Sincerely, _

_Audrey Mildrew_

"Who's this Mildrew?" Emmy asked.

"I haven't the foggiest idea," replied Layton as he read over the letter again. "But she seems to know me."

Emmy rolled her eyes. The Professor was the worst when it came remembering old acquaintances, she still remembered his failure to recollect their first meeting, but they had barely spoken then. This Audrey Mildrew seemed to be a lot closer to Layton with the reference to being "old friends".

"The Akbadain ruins?" an excited glint flickered in Luke's eye. "Does this mean when get to go back to Monte D'Or!"

"Yes, it appears so," said Layton. "We shall leave straight away. I have a few more essays to mark, and I need time to notify Dean Delmona about mine and Emmy's absences. Those artifacts also need to be returned to the museum."

"He won't mind me taking more time off?" Emmy looked a bit concerned.

"Of course not, you are my assistant and you shall be assisting me on this outing," Layton said. "Think about it as work away from work".

"Me and Emmy can take care of returning the artifacts Professor!" Luke said cheerily as he gathered the last of the artifacts into their boxes.

"Yes, and we'll stopped by your house and pack for the trip, so you can concentrate on your papers," Emmy added.

"Sounds wonderful, I'll see you both back here within the hour."

Emmy grabbed the larger of the two boxes and headed out the door. "Good luck Professor!"

Layton found himself alone once again in his office. He a great yawn escaped him as he sat down to finish marking those last essays. He glanced around his office which was slightly tidier now that the crates were gone. The pile of mail caught his eye.

Amongst the junk mail and University newsletters was a second letter, this one addressed to Emmy Altava. Layton looked it over, but found no return address.

"How peculiar…" he mumbled to himself.

There was a burning urge to open the letter. Doing so would be violating Emmy, but with her strange behaviour earlier Layton couldn't help but sense a connection.

_Nonsense Hershel, you're being paranoid._

His duty of being a gentleman got the better of him, and he tucked Emmy's letter into his jacket. He would give it to her later, and if she wished to share, then it would be completely her choice.

For now he would concentrate on marking these essays, the long drive ahead to Monte D'or, and picking his memory for any hints of an Audrey Mildrew.

Something about all this wasn't sitting right in his stomach.

* * *

**Author's Note:** This is my first fanfiction so constructive criticism is welcome. It takes place a few months after Miracle Mask, but before Azran Legacies (I'm also ignoring any details from PL6 in this story). I hope to update weekly (no promises) and hope everyone enjoys!

*Also will contain small hints of EmmyxLayton


	2. Worries, Laughter, and Problems

**Author's Note: **Big thank you to everyone who took the time to read this and review. Your opinions matter to me! Anyways I forgot to mention that this will contain spoilers for Miracle Mask and Last Specter.

I also forgot a disclaimer: I don't own Professor Layton. That honour goes to Level-5

And without further ado.

* * *

Chapter 2: Worries, Laughter and Problems with the Cat Tongue

Emmy wondered how Dean Delmona would react to the news. It seemed Layton spent more time out solving mysteries than teacher. _Oh well, our adventures are much more interesting anyway. _ She told herself that a mystery would be good for her, to put everything else out of her mind. _I just wish he didn't have to bring up Barthalul._

She glared at the crate in her arms, thinking of the stone disk within. The idea made her stomach uneasy. Her thoughts were soon interrupted by an excited Luke.

"I can't wait to solve another mystery," the boy cried as he caught up to her with the smaller box cradled against his chest. "I can't wait to go back to Monte D'Or! We can ride the roller coaster again, and visit the circus! D'you think we can see Randall and Angela?"

"I'm sure we'll stop by for a visit with the Ascots," Emmy assured. "But first and foremost we need to solve the mystery and help Miss Audrey Mildrew."

The walk to the museum felt like forever and was full of Luke ranting about how excited he was for their latest mystery, and asking Emmy about her vacation. Emmy really wasn't in the mood and replied each time with, "Oh, just fine" or "Yeah, my family was doing great" or "No, nothing interesting happened really", but the boy never took the hint.

Just as Emmy was about ready to throttle Luke, they arrived at the museum. _Oh thank god,_ she sighed. It wasn't that she couldn't stand Luke, just that she had been feeling irritable since the events of the past week and his persistent questions weren't helping her to put those thoughts behind her.

They came up to a guard at the museum.

"We're dropping these off to Chappy for Professor Layton," said Emmy. The guard pointed down the hall and stepped out of their way, giving them a wave as the pair passed.

"Emmy you've been awful quiet," said Luke. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm fine Luke."

"'Cause normally you never shut up and-"

"Seriously Luke I'm fine. I'm just having an off day."

"Did you and the Professor have a fight before I came in?"

"No Luke."

The boy paused to think for a moment. "Is it your time of the month?!"

Emmy stopped in surprise, and turned to the Luke who stood in his tracks wide eyed. "'Cause my dad says woman get irritable once a month, and that you should never try to argue with them then, and that I should be extra good to my mum when it was _her time_."

Emmy flushed slightly at Luke's statement. "Um…no. How about we get these artifacts to Chappy!" _Apparently Clark forgot to tell his son to keep his mouth shout for certain things_, Emmy didn't even think Luke knew what he was referring to. She pulled an awkward grin and continued onward.

Luke sighed and followed her down the hall. They came to a door which read: _Museum Curator_ , on the plate.

"This must be it!" said Luke and he knocked on the door.

After waiting a few moments with no reply, Emmy impatiently knocked again.

Again there was no answer.

"Where could he be?" Emmy whined. She looked uneasily at the crate in her arms. The Barathalul disk's presence weighed heavily on her mind. She wanted to get rid of the artifact as soon as possible. It was only a reminder of ... certain unpleasant things. "Fine, I'm going in."

"Emmy wait, it's rude to-"

Emmy ignored Luke's protest and balancing the crate in one arm she used her free hand to open the door which had been left unlocked.

Chappy's office was dark and cramped. "Is anyone in here? Hello!" Emmy called as she switched on a light.

A very peeved looking man sat up from a fetal position on the desk on the far side of the room. He blinked twice and gave a great stretch. "Mrreeow!" He cocked his head to the side.

Luke gave Emmy a bewildered look as the man went about licking the back of his hands and rubbing them on his face. Emmy forgot about Chappy's exaggerated cat obsession to the point where he actually behaved like a feline.

"Sorry to disrupt you Chappy, we just came to drop off some artifacts Professor Layton was looking over."

"Meow meow," said Chappy, which Emmy took as a "Thank you very much."

"Well um… you're welcome." Emmy said. She and Luke set the crates on the floor. From behind Chappy's desk Emmy saw a poster advertising a Barthalul exhibit in none other than Monte D'Or. "So I guess everyone's a fan of Barthalul these days?" She tried her best to hide the disdain in her voice. "I suppose London needed to jump on the bandwagon too." _ Why does that bloody philosopher follow me everywhere I go?_

"Meow mreow mew," replied Chappy, jumping down from the desk onto the floor. "Meow meow meow mrew." He sniffed both Emmy and Luke.

"Okay well, we'll see you later." The Barthalul artifact wasn't the only things unnerving Emmy in this room. She shoved a perplexed looking Luke towards the door. "Say goodbye to the nice man," she whispered in his ear.

"Goode-bye Mr. Chappy," said Luke with a forced smile as he walked out.

"I will never understand what possessed a man to take on the persona of a cat," Emmy sighed once they were out of earshot. "He is a strange one."

"Yeah…," Luke said oddly quiet all of the sudden. "A strange one indeed."

"Is something wrong Luke?" Emmy asked. The boy went uncharacteristically silent for once. This couldn't be the same Luke who had moments before, been driving her stark raving mad with his endless chatter.

"Is it your time the month?"

"What! Emmy no!" Luke flushed a bit. "I-I don't even think that's possible!"

Emmy chuckled, "Seriously Luke, is something up?"

"I was…I was just…thinking about what Chappy said."

Emmy raised her eyebrow. "You don't mean to tell me that you actually understand all those grunts and meows."

"Well I can talk to animals," Luke said. "And some of what Chappy said made sense."

"So the cat's got your tongue." Luke frowned at Emmy's tease. She had honestly forgotten about Luke's mysterious gift and was intrigued about what Chappy had said back there. "So what did he say?"

"Well, his cat isn't very good," mumbled Luke. "I only picked up bits and pieces, but…"

"But?"

"There was one thing he said. And translated into English it doesn't make any sense at all."

"Speaking in cat doesn't make any sense at all."

Luke stood on his tip toes and motioned for Emmy to bend over so he could whisper in her ear. "Emmy, what is a…."

The woman burst out in a fit of laughter, she was bent over and was heaving so hard she was no longer making any sound. Luke gave her a perplexed look. Emmy calmed herself, and breathed deeply, still trying to catch her breath.

"He said that!" she shook her head in disbelief. "Why that scoundrel!" She was taken by another wave of laughs.

"Yes, but what does it mean?" Luke said slightly taken aback.

Emmy took another breath, and stuffed her giggles. "I'll tell you when you're older." She sized up the young boy. "Much, much older." She sighed and regained her composure. "Now let's hurry off to the Professor's house, we still need to pack up for the trip."

She dashed down the street leaving a still very confused Luke in her dust. Emmy had found that word very amusing, and he was disappointed she thought he was too immature to share it with him. On the other hand she seemed back to her usual cheery self.

"Luke hurry up!" Emmy called from down the street. "Last one there's a rotten egg."

"Now fair you had a head start," Luke cried. He was still worried about what was bothering Emmy, for surely something was, but it was nice to see her laughing again. Luke ran down the street to catch her.

As for the meaning of that word, he'd have to ask the Professor later.

* * *

The two arrived at Layton's rather quickly. The Professor didn't live too far from the University, and the race had cut down the time. Luke arrived huffing and puffing a good distance behind Emmy.

"You're fast," panted Luke as he collapsed on the lawn, defeated.

Layton's was a huge house in Emmy's eyes, much bigger than her tiny flat. It was a huge living space, with a kitchen, lounge room and office, and an upstairs with a master bedroom and two for guests. Emmy believed there was an attic as well. Of course the entire house was full of bookshelves, artifacts and the latest research papers. The same tornado that frequently swept through Layton's office seemed to have hit his home as well. It always surprised her that he had lived alone in such a grand space before Luke came to stay with him.

Emmy got down two suitcases, and went to pack one for Layton while Luke ran to his room to gather his things. Going through the Professor's clothing was perhaps are little strange, seeing as he was her boss, but he was a busy man and this would save them time. Besides, Layton wasn't the type to keep secrets in his drawers, so Emmy didn't need to worry about uncovering anything…embarrassing.

She entered his bedroom, which was a very simple décor. A map was sprawled out on the far beige coloured wall, with tacks and scribbles all about it. A king size bed stood in the middle of the room opposite a closet and chest of drawers. Other than that it felt a little empty.

Emmy's own room was full of stuff: photographs, souvenirs, magazines, a robot she'd received as a gift from their previous adventure in Monte D'Or, and of course the many puzzles the Professor and Luke frequently gave her to test her mind. She'd expected a puzzle or two, in the bedroom of the puzzle master himself, but had not found even a trace of one.

She went about packing pulling out a change of shirts, pants and boxers -she blushed a little at the boxers. Emmy pulled open his sock drawer and came face to face with the most peculiar thing: woman she had never seen.

Emmy froze. This was the Professor's secret, the very thing one hides in a place no one will ever look so that it is never found. She gingerly plucked the picture from the bottom of the drawer. Her hair was a red-brown and she wore glasses. She was a pretty young thing. Emmy flipped the photo over and on the back in the Professor's hand writing it read: Claire. Who was this Claire? This woman in Layton's sock drawer? Emmy, feeling guilty for having found it, carefully placed the photo back in the drawer.

"Emmy are you coming?" yelled Luke from downstairs.

"Yes, just one moment," Emmy called back, grabbing a handful of socks and zipping them into the suitcase. She ran downstairs to join him.

What she failed to notice was the photograph of the young women, grabbed and packed with the bundle of socks.


	3. On the Road to Misadventure

Chapter 3: On the Road to Misadventure

Professor Layton walked outside to find Emmy and Luke waiting for him. The pair smiled and stepped out of his way so he could unlock the Laytonmobile.

"I do hope packing wasn't too much of a hassle," Layton said as he helped Emmy throw the suitcases in the trunk.

"Oh no, no trouble at all Professor," said Emmy. She seemed in a much better mood. "Excuse me, while I grab my things." And before Layton could ask if she needed any help, Emmy disappeared around the corner.

"Did you get all your work done Professor?" asked Luke.

"Why yes, all the essays have been marked, and I notified Dean Delmona about mine and Emmy's leave." Layton thought missing more work would be an issue, but his assumptions were proven wrong when a very excited Delmona urged he go solve this latest mystery. "Great publicity for Gressenheller," he'd said "though I suppose I'll need to find someone else to help me with my granddaughter's puzzles." Layton had insisted that if the Dean would only give the puzzles a chance, he would be perfectly capable of solving them on his own. The Dean had shrugged and wished him the best before shooing Layton out of his office.

"Did the artifacts get delivered alright?"

"Yes," said Luke, wondering if now was the best time to ask about Chappy's odd behaviour, but another more pressing issue popped into the boy's mind. "But Emmy was acting a little weird on our way to the museum. I think she was mad at me."

"I noticed a change in her demeanor as well," said Layton. It worried him that Luke noticed the change in his assistant. "Perhaps you should refrain from teasing her until this is sorted out. I fear Emmy is not in the most stable emotional state."

"I wasn't teasing," Luke insisted. "I was just asking her about her holiday, and besides, she's always the one to start it." Luke and Emmy's fights were quite terrifying at times. Emmy - though admittedly the culprit to ignite each one- was always graceful in her choice of words, so as not to hurt the poor boy too badly, or teach him foul language. As childish as she could be, Emmy was still a responsible adult.

"She cheered up a bit after we dropped everything off," said Luke. "It was strange, and although she denies it…Professor, I'm very sure that Emmy's on her _time of the month_."

Layton turned beet red at the Luke's comment. No wonder Emmy was aggravated with the boy if he'd brought it up during their conversation. Although it would explain her mood swing, and the lack of confidence she displayed this morning…. "Luke," the Professor said sternly, "a gentleman must never, _ever_ ask a lady if it's her…a gentleman must never ask a lady _that_ question."

"Sorry to keep you guys waiting."

Layton jumped and turned around to see Emmy standing behind him with her suitcase.

_Oh dear, _Layton felt himself turning red all over again, _how long has she been standing there? _

"What was this about a question a lady should never be asked?" Emmy crossed her arms and cocked her head to the side.

"I-it's nothing really my dear, just a little talk between gentlemen." Layton pulled his hat over his eyes and looked down hoping Emmy wouldn't notice his flushed cheeks.

She raised an eyebrow at Luke who gave her a sheepish grin. "Well okay, how about you be gentlemen and put this in the car."

Layton picked up her suitcase and tossed it in with the others. _What has she got in here?_ He was surprised by how heavy her luggage was as he never thought Emmy to be the type to pack her entire wardrobe. Then again he was looking at her wardrobe. Layton had never seen Emmy sport anything but her yellow coat, white trousers and boots. _Surely she must own other attire. She is a lady after all. _However it made Layton sad that he never saw her enough to see her in anything but her usual work clothes.

A thought suddenly dawned on him. "Emmy surely you didn't have the time to run to your flat, pack and be back already."

"Oh, I never unpacked Professor," she said hopping into the passenger side. "I came straight here once I returned to London."

"We can wait if you want to go home and repack," Layton said. "At the very least shouldn't you return your scooter?"

Emmy frowned and the sulky look returned to her eyes. "I came by train. My scooter had a little engine trouble and is in the repair shop. As for my clothes, I'm sure I can wash everything once we get to the hotel."

"Well alright," said Layton. He hopped into the driver's seat and started up the Laytonmobile -only after checking that Emmy and Luke were both buckled up and ready of course. "And I'm sorry to hear about your scooter Emmy." He knew how much she cared for it. Perhaps this was what had been troubling her? "Do you know what exactly was wrong with it?"

"Um…transmission I think," she replied. "Yes, the transmission definitely blew. But I got it towed back to London and they'll call me when it's ready." She turned to face the window, rubbing her right arm nervously and watched the many street lamps and cafes of London pass by. Emmy really hadn't thought about her poor scooter after the _incident_.

She sighed. This garnered a look of concern from the Professor.

"So did you find out anything about Audrey Mildrew?" Emmy asked to change the subject. Anyways it was about time they discuss the case.

"I went through a list of students I had in the past few years, but found no match to the name," Layton said. "However I'm sure I would remember her if she was as friendly with me as she claims in her letter. I also went through some high school yearbooks with the same results."

"Perhaps she was in one of your University classes Professor," Luke piped up from his seat in the back.

"Yes, she did say she was at a dig site near the Akbadain ruins, which could make her an archeologist," added Emmy.

"Well, maybe." Layton couldn't recall anyone with the last name Mildrew. "Perhaps I met her in a study group, but my university life was really quite the blur."

Emmy wondered how Layton's memories of university could be so fuzzy. She would admit that her own memory of her time as a student was…not the greatest to say the least. But unlike herself she didn't take Layton as the type to go drinking and party until all hours of the night. _Unless he spent so much time studying he was brainwashed from his social life,_ she thought.

"May I see the letter again?"

Layton nodded and handed it to Emmy. Doing so reminded him of the second letter tucked away in his jacket. He considered giving it to her now, but a feeling inside his stomach rationalized that he should wait and give it to her in private when Luke was not around.

"Hmm, I guess we'll just have to wait and see if her face sparks anything in that head of yours." Emmy gave the letter back to Layton. She doubted it, as the Professor had not recognized her from their first meeting. In his defense, they had only met briefly and Emmy had changed a lot since then. _Hopefully you can figure out Miss Mildrew_, she thought. _Or we could have another mystery on our hands._

* * *

"Why does Emmy always get to ride in the front?"

"Because I'm older, and a lady." Emmy turned around and stuck her tongue out at Luke.

"That's questionable," mumbled the boy.

"What did you say Luke?"

"Sticking your tongue out is immature and unladylike."

"Please you two, no fighting for a moment, I am trying to drive." They had not been on the road long, but Layton found himself tiring quickly. Early evening was settling in and between the cramped space of the Laytonmobile and hunger growing in everyone's stomachs, his assistant and apprentice had taken to bickering with one another.

"Sorry Professor," Luke sighed and sat back.

Even with the noise gone Layton still found it hard to concentrate. The Laytonmobile swayed a bit to one side of the road as he fought his drowsiness.

"Professor maybe it's not the best idea for you to be driving right now," Emmy turned to him worried.

"Yes, I am rather tired," Layton yawned. "Would you care to take the wheel?"

Normally Emmy would have squealed in delight at the offer. Today she slumped back in her seat and politely declined. "I'm feeling tired too. Maybe we should take a break."

A great sigh of relief was heard from the back of the Laytonmobile.

"I heard that Luke," Emmy grumbled.

"Sorry, Emmy, but I don't feel like getting carsick today. The ride's a lot bumpier back here… which you would know if you ever had to ride in the back!"

"Alright you two that's enough," said Layton. "There's a motel coming up soon, we can grabbed some dinner and rest for the night. We'll continue to Monte d'Or tomorrow and we should get there by the late afternoon."

It bothered Layton a bit that Emmy had given up the chance to drive so quickly. Normally she begged him to let her drive the Laytonmobile. _It has been an exciting day, and she did just get back from her trip. She must be exhausted_. This sounded like a reasonable enough explanation to Layton.

"Do I have to ride in the back again Professor?"

"Yes Luke."

"I wasn't asking you Emmy!"

"We'll if you think it's so unfair, why don't we just call shot-gun next time?"

"Sounds good to me," Luke huffed.

"Spit shake on it?"

"Eww Emmy no that's gross. Emmy what are you doing? Emmy? Don't -eww! Don't touch me! I can't believe you just spat on your hand. Professor she spat on her hand and she's going to touch me! Please don't... That's most definitely unladylike -Emmy!"

Layton shook his head. If anything they all needed a break from each other.

* * *

"I can't believe she did that."

Luke was still in a foul mood from his fight with Emmy. The boy went on and on about how annoying she was. "Why is she being so mean?"

Layton sighed. They were sitting in a little diner attached to the motel where they decided to spend the night. Emmy went to the restroom to wash up before their food arrived, leaving Luke alone to vent.

It wasn't abnormal for the two to get into arguments, and Layton was sure Luke's unpleasant mood was aggravated by hunger. Although having saliva wiped all over you was surely disgusting, Layton noticed that Emmy had only pretended to spit in her hand. She knew exactly how to push Luke's buttons. The sooner the food came the sooner this fight would blow over the boy's mind.

As if on cue, the waiter brought over three plates of burgers and chips.

"Oh, good perfect timing." Emmy sat down in the booth beside him just as a plate was set in front of her. The chips were greasy and the Layton questioned the "meat" on his burger. His two companions seemed not to care and happily gorged themselves on the food without a second thought.

"Luke, would you pass the ketchup please?" Emmy took a minute to swallow.

"Here you are." Luke handed the bottle to her.

It seemed the two had already made up in a silent understanding. Layton smiled, "I'll take it when you're done." It was going to take quite the amount of ketchup to get this meal down.

* * *

"My dear, are you sure you would not like anything else?"

Emmy shook her head. "No thanks Professor, I'm stuffed."

Layton raised an eyebrow. Emmy had not eaten nearly as much as he'd expected. While Luke had finished his burger, ordered seconds, and was now polishing off a bowl of ice cream, Emmy had left a good portion of her first meal untouched. It was rude to comment on the eating habits of a lady, but Emmy usually packed it away.

"If you'll excuse me I'm going to do my laundry. I saw a washer and dryer in the other building." Emmy smiled and rose from the table.

"Alright we'll see you in the room later," said Layton.

As Emmy walked towards the door she heard Luke gasped suddenly, "Professor before I forget, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

"Ask away my boy."

"What in the world is a…."

Emmy chuckled to herself knowing all too well of the embarrassing situation the Professor's young apprentice had just put him in.

She grabbed her suitcase from the Laytonmobile and wheeled it into the laundry room. It was tiny and the machines themselves took up most of the space. She unzipped her bag and laid out her clothes, all of which were still soaking. "Stupid rainstorm," Emmy grumbled as she threw her clothes in the washer. They all had a faint musty smell. It seemed to have done nothing but rain the whole time Emmy was on vacation. Well, that and have everything go against her.

She popped some change into the machine and it whirred to life. She thought about going back to the Professor and Luke, mostly to see his reaction to Luke's question.

She sighed and slumped against the wall. A few moments alone would do her some good, seeing as she would be in the boys' company for the next few days and the chances of escape were slim. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy spending time with the Professor and Luke, she just liked being able to think in peace without the two pondering over her thoughts as if they were a puzzle.

By now both of them knew something was up. The Professor was getting pushy about it, and she could only smile and tell him she was alright so many times. Emmy hated having him so concerned, but it was better this way, at least for the moment. She also hated the fact that she had lied to both of them.

She took her camera out of its pouch on her belt. It was her most prized possession. She ran her fingers over its buttons and switches playing with the aperture and shutter speed, a nervous tick she'd developed when she was alone to think.

In truth she hadn't gone to visit her family. She'd gone to the countryside, to ride her scooter in the hills and take photographs by lakes and just follow whatever road she happened upon; anything to push the confusing feelings from her mind. Of course nothing went as planned and she ended up following the very path she was trying to avoid, which lead to misfortune after misfortune and Emmy had to face her issues head on -which she'd failed at miserable.

Small tears formed in the corners of her eyes. _What am I doing?_ she thought. _What's wrong with me…._ Everything was so good up until last week. She could afford to rent a decent flat and buy food, and take photographs of the city in her spare time. She was working a dream job with two people she cared very much for, one of them being Professor Layton which still made her feel like the luckiest girl alive. It was a perfect life in her eyes. A life that had been a fragile window, one that was shattered by the thoughts of her past, and the news that-

"Just checking on you my dear," Layton poked his head into the laundry room. "I'm sorry, didn't mean to frighten you."

Emmy blushed realizing that she jumped a little. She looked away and brushed the pre-tears from her face. "Oh no worries, I was just deep in thought." She placed her camera back in its pouch.

"Anything particular?"

"No," Emmy replied. "Just thoughts… about random things. Silly things. Don't you ever have random thoughts Professor?"

He smiled and leaned against the dryer so he faced her. "Now, there is no such thing as a random thought my dear. Every little thing that pops into our minds is there because of a connection to something else. So if you are thinking it, it's for a reason."

Try as he might he could not hide the concern in his eyes. Emmy knew very well the path this conversation was going down. This was a private place with no Luke in sight, and the perfect place for an adult conversation. Emmy really hated those. All her life only bad things happened when someone said the magic words:

_"Emmy, we need to have a talk."_

She waited for it. And waited for it. But it never came. The Professor stared at a spot on the wall with a little too much interest and she knew he wanted to say it. But he was giving her a chance. A choice. An opportunity to be an adult and address the problem.

But she wasn't ready to share it with him. She wasn't ready to share it with anyone. For a little while longer it would be her burden, her pain. So she did the only thing a responsible adult would do: she changed the subject.

"So Professor, did Luke find the answer to his question?"

Layton turned the colour of a ripe tomato, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. "Well," he cleared his throat, "I told him it was the sort of word a gentleman should never use… or a lady for that matter." He eyed Emmy suspiciously as she failed to hide her smile.

"I promise Professor I would never use a word like that in front of a child," Emmy used every ounce of self-control not to burst out in laughter. "Or in front of anyone else for that matter," she added quickly. Although it was hilarious when Luke had asked her, it was ten times funnier thinking about the reaction the great Professor Hershel Layton must have had.

"I fear Chappy may need to watch his pronunciation whilst speaking cat," Layton concluded.

"It sucks," said Emmy bluntly, "and I don't even understand a word of it. There might have been something off about that last mreow though."

Layton chuckled at Emmy's sarcastic quip. "Perhaps I should kindly point it out to him when we return."

"Yes, we wouldn't want all the cats' in London to think our museum curator's got a foul mouth. That would be a cat-astrophe!" The washing machine beeped as Emmy gloated over her pun, and Layton could only shake his head.

"Emmy, before I forget I need to give you something." She paused a moment from throwing her clothes in the dryer, and turned to him.

Layton pulled the letter out of his jacket. "This is addressed to you, but there is no return, which I find quite strange."

Emmy tentatively took the letter. As the Professor said, it was addressed to her, but there was no postal stamp or return address. She opened the envelope and read over the letter. _Oh no, not this again…._ She made a noticeable frown.

"Are you all right my dear?" The Professor placed a hand on her shoulder, his eyes full of concern.

Emmy found herself tongue tied for a moment. Partially because of what she'd just read, but mostly because there was this feeling…this strange feeling that stirred deep within. And it grew a little at Layton's gentle touch.

"Yes, I'm fine," she lied. "It's just some stupid student prank." She brushed his hand off her shoulder, tucked the letter into her camera's pouch, and went back to her laundry.

Taking the hint Layton decided he best leave. "I'll be in the room, and I'll leave the extra key right here."

"Okay thanks Professor. I'll join you once this is done."

Emmy turned the dial on the dryer as Layton left the room. She was alone once again. Alone, with only her thoughts of what she'd just read in that dreadful letter as company.

* * *

Emmy came to the room a half hour later. Layton had stayed up to make sure she got in okay. He was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, a blanket overtop him and a book in his hand. The only light on in the room was a lamp by his side.

He was still concerned about Emmy. Her reaction to the letter was upsetting, and as she was already pushing him away he decided that to pry into the letter would only cause more distance.

"Professor, you really didn't need to wait up for me." Emmy placed her suitcase with the others.

Layton put a finger to his lips and pointed to Luke, who was fast asleep in one of the beds.

Emmy nodded and whispered this time, "I can take the chair for the night."

"I'm quite settled here already, so you take the bed," Layton shifted himself beneath the blanket. "Besides I'm used to sleeping on the couch in my office."

Emmy yawned - too tired to protest- and plopped herself in the second bed. She couldn't bother to change.

"Would you care to take the first driving shift tomorrow?" Layton asked as he turned off the lamp, plunging them into darkness.

"Maybe…," said Emmy and she rolled in bed. "Goodnight Professor."

The moonlight cascaded from the window and onto Emmy's form beneath the blankets. Layton watched her struggle to get comfortable for a moment, then closed his eyes and settled in the chair. The pit of worry in his stomach grew worst, but he kept telling himself that Emmy could handle whatever she was going through and that when the time came she would come to him.

"Goodnight," he whispered. "Let's hope tomorrow is a better day."

* * *

**AN:** Tune in next week when Layton and friends (finally) arrive in Monte d'Or and get the mystery rolling!


	4. The Akbadain Dig Site

Chapter 4: The Akbadain Dig Site

"_Oh Claire…._"

_She brushed his chin with her soft hands and leaned forward for a kiss. "Now, Hershel there's no need to worry. I'll be fine I promise."_

_ He smiled and pulled her into his embrace. "I can't help but worry about you." He took a deep breath. She smelled so sweet. So real._

_ Claire grabbed his hand and pulled him up the hill. Together they sat under the shadow of an old yew tree, watching the clouds roll lazily by. He knew very well this was a dream, but oh, what a wonderful dream it was!_

_ "There," Claire pointed to a fluffy cloud. "That one looks like a rabbit."_

_ "Yes," he chuckled, "and this one here's a Latrodectus."_

_ "A black widow spider?" she raised an eyebrow. "Now how can you be sure."_

_ "A gentleman is always sure when it comes to identifying arachnids."_

_ "Even those in the sky?"_

_ "It can be a new species, Latrodectus cumulus."_

_ She smiled and lay across his lap. "Now would you really name a spider that? Even a cloud spider?"_

_ "Firstly I am an archaeologist and it is not my job to discover new fauna. However, in all honesty if I were to name an organism I would name it after someone very special to me."_

_ "I would be honoured to be named after a spider," she said. "Even one as deadly as the black widow."_

_ "Well, now who said you were that very special someone?"_

_ Claire leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek. "If I ever discover anything of importance then I guess I can forget about naming it after you."_

_ He smiled and leaned down to press his lips on her forehead. A tear fell from his cheek and landed in her hair. _

_"I miss you Claire." _

_She looked at him and smiled. "Oh Hershel, you have the sweetest puppy dog eyes. Did anyone ever tell you that?" She then stood and walked down the hill. A soft sound reached his ears and he realized she was singing. It was only a dream, but it sounded so close, like the music was actually there. Her voice was so beautiful, so pure, so…._

Layton woke up to singing. The sound was distant and muffled, and seemed to be coming from behind the closed washroom door. He glanced over at the beds to find Luke still fast asleep and the other vacant. Light was just creeping over the horizon, and it cast a dreamlike glow about the room. He sat for a moment and listened to Emmy singing as she washed up for the day.

Singing was a good thing, a happy thing, and he hoped Emmy would be back to normal today. He was going to need her once they got to the dig site.

His eye caught Emmy's camera pouch laid out on her bed. He remembered the letter she'd tucked away yesterday. He didn't buy the fact that it was a student prank; why would she bother keeping it?

Again Layton thought about reading the note. And again Layton felt repulsed at the idea of violating his assistant's privacy.

He decided to lay his clothes out for the day. He went to his suitcase and pulled out a fresh shirt, underpants and socks. Layton was quite surprised to see something fall out of his bundle of socks. He quickly recognized Claire's picture and snatched it off the ground.

He gently stroked the woman frozen in time. It bothered him that Claire had looked different in his dream, still Claire of course, but a little off, like he'd forgotten details in her face and only realized it now that he had something to compare his memories to.

_How did you get here?_ Layton wondered. Most likely Emmy had accidentally grabbed the photograph when she was packing his socks. _I shall have to keep you in a safer place. _Layton made a mental note and tucked Claire's picture into his jacket.

He stood there for a moment, lost in thought. From the bathroom came Emmy's voice still in mid-song.

He noted she was the tiniest bit off tune.

* * *

Everyone seemed in better spirits that morning. Luke woke up at a decent time -he was notorious for sleeping in- and the three of them had a fine breakfast at the diner by the motel. Layton was happy to see Emmy eating well this morning, and decided it best if he didn't bother her with the mysterious letter or driving in case either were to upset her.

All in all they set off in good time for Monte d'Or.

"Emmy why are you sitting in the front again? We made a deal!"

"You snooze you lose _second assistant_." Emmy turned to Luke with a wide grin. "And the deal was to call shot-gun for the front, which I did first."

"It's no fair, you didn't explain the rules," Luke crossed his arms in a huff. "And I'm _apprentice number one_," he added.

Layton sighed. It didn't take the two long to start bickering again. "Perhaps we can revisit our case so we're ready once we arrive."

Luke cleared his throat and pulled out a notepad. "Sure thing Professor! Miss Audrey Mildrew, who claims to be an old friend of yours, asked us to investigate the disappearance of an important artifact at her dig site. What sort of artifact do you suppose it was?"

"Azran most likely," said Emmy. "The letter stated the site was near the Akbadain ruins."

Layton adjusted his hat, which was just barely fitting under the vehicle's roof. "Yes, it very well could be Azran in nature."

* * *

They arrived at their destination by the late afternoon. The dig site near the Akbadain ruins was close to Monte d'Or, almost right beside the Reunion Inn. Many whispers were exchanged from workers as three strangers emerged from a very peculiarly tall automobile.

Emmy pulled out her camera and shot a picture of the scene. "It's got a whole different feel out here, away from the hustle of town."

She was right, Monte d'Or was full of crowds and music and entertainment at its core, but on the outskirts the calm desert tone set in.

"Excuse me," said Layton to a slim man dressed in khakis, "could you tell us where we could find Miss Audrey Mildrew?"

"Mildrew?" said the man with a hint of hesitation. "Yeah, her tent's at the far end of that row to the right." He pointed to a mass of tents. "What are you strangers doing here if I might ask? The camp's not been in the best state as of late and neither has my boss' attitude."

"We were invited by Miss Mildrew you see," said Layton.

"Ah, yes the Londoners," the man nodded. "You folks best watch yourselves, being strangers and all, some people on this crew have gone wacky."

"Wacky how?" piped up Luke, who'd been madly scribbling down notes for the past minutes.

"Wacky in the head!" the man threw his arms in the air. "Say they havin' dreams you know. Dreams about terrible things. Dreams 'cause of the discovery you know. They say they found-"

"I think it's best if we find Miss Mildrew now," said Emmy grabbing Luke's arm and edging him away from the man. "Thank you for your help Mr.?"

"Call me Donny!" said the man. He gave them a wave and disappeared into a tent.

"Well he was…a character." Emmy placed her hands on her hips.

"Yes, well we shall have to ask Miss Mildrew about these dreams and the status of her workers," Layton said matter-of-factly and led the way in the direction Donny had pointed them in.

The camp was a simple set up of rows of tents at both sides. From what Layton could tell the actual dig site was set up behind this wall. They saw many workers on the short walk. A fine layer of dust was continuously being kicked around with all the bustle, and the trio got many strange looks as they passed.

"No wonder there's suspicion of an inside job. Everyone here looks a tad shady if you ask me," remarked Emmy.

"It's not nice to judge people," said Luke. "But... they are kind of creepy aren't they?" The boy re-positioned himself so that he walked between Emmy and the Professor.

They arrived at an unremarkable tent marking the end of the row. "This must be Miss Mildrew's tent," said Layton.

"I wonder if she's in?" said Luke.

Emmy pushed past the two. "Well let's see," and in typical Emmy fashion poked her head into the tent and called: "Is this Audrey Mildrew's tent?"

_One has to admire her boldness_, thought Layton.

"Why yes come!" came a voice within. Emmy turned and motioned for the boys.

Layton entered the tent which was quite bright inside as it was made of light material. The space reminded him of his office with papers and books splayed in every nook and cranny. A large map of the ruins was spread on the table and behind it stood a pretty blonde woman with freckles. She looked no older than Layton. Audrey Mildrew stuck her hand out to the Professor. "It's a pleasure to see you again Hershel."

"Yes, you too Miss Mildrew," said Layton awkwardly shaking her hand as he still had no recollection as to how they exactly knew each other.

"Oh, please, I've told you before call me Audrey. And you've moved up in the world. I see you've got helpers." Mildrew nodded at Emmy and Luke.

"I'm Luke Triton," said the boy and he shook her hand, "the Professor's apprentice." He glared at Emmy to make sure she didn't argue the fact.

"Apprentice? My how adorable are you," Mildrew smiled and patted Luke on the head.

"Emmy Altava, assistant to Professor Layton," Emmy introduced herself and offered a hand. Mildrew looked at her weirdly for a moment before accepting it. "It's nice to meet you… Miss Altava."

Layton cleared his throat. "Now that formalities are out of the way, how may we be of assistance?"

"Yes, the case," Mildrew tapped her fingers on the table. "Well, it all started awhile back when we discovered the most amazing thing-" The woman's eyes lit up. She ran to the Professor and took his arm. "I can't simply tell you about it. You must see it for yourself!"

She led them outside and behind the row of tents. As Layton had suspected this was where the dig site was set up. There was a giant hole in the ground, at least a football field wide and twenty feet deep. The uncovered bits of the floor revealed ancient inscriptions.

"What is it?" asked Luke peering over the edge.

"Luke, lean any further and you'll fall in," Emmy teased.

"I believe it is a map of some sort."

All eyes turned to Layton. Mildrew smiled, "Just as clever as always Hershel. It is indeed a map, and one, we believe, that leads to the location of Barthalul's Door."

"But that's only a myth," said Emmy in shock. "The Door's nothing more than a children's tale."

"Don't be so quick to write off tales Miss Altava," said Mildrew with a wave of her finger. "The Barthalul artifacts -the supposed keys to the Door- are very real, and many believe them a sign that behind the legend lays truth."

"So do you know where the Door is then?" Excitement danced in Luke's eyes as he asked.

"We have yet to finish uncovering the entire map, but I have speculations it is not complete." Mildrew replied.

Layton raised an eyebrow. "And why do you make that assumption?"

"Barthalul knew the secrets of the ancient world; he was a very intelligent man." She pulled something out of her pocket. "Each Barthalul artifact acts not only as part of the key, but a final piece to the map, revealing the true location of the philosopher's secrets."

Mildrew held out the object in her hand. It was old and disked shaped and so small it fit in her palm. "As you can see, there are inscriptions on this piece here."

"Wait, is that a Barthalul artifact?" Luke looked surprised. "It's so tiny!"

"They all vary in size," said Layton examining the disk. "The one I examined in London was a bit larger than this, but the likeness in design is unquestionable. This is indeed Barthalul."

"Yes, I heard about the piece on display at the London museum. How exciting," Mildrew took a step closer to Layton, who in turn backed up. "They're housing an artifact in the Monte d'Or museum right now, courtesy of the late Warren Coates. Have you heard of him?"

Layton shook his head and noticed Emmy turn suddenly pale beside him. "Are you alright my dear?" He placed a concerned hand on her shoulder.

Emmy zoned out, her eyes locked on the Barthalul artifact in Mildrew's palm. "I think the long drive and the heat's catching up with me." She took a deep breath. "I'm not feeling so great…I think, I should sit down."

"There are some benches and a water station right over there," Mildrew pointed to the spot.

"I'll walk you over," Layton said taking her right arm. She jerked oddly at this, and pulled away.

"No, I can make it Professor." Emmy rubbed her arm as if she'd been stung. "But thank you." The Professor watched as she walked over to the station on wobbling legs. It was so like Emmy to stand her ground and be independent and strong, but with everything that had happened yesterday, Layton couldn't help but worry she was pushing herself. Even Emmy Altava had her limits.

"Luke," said Layton, "would you go keep Emmy company. Make sure she gets there okay."

"Yes, Professor." The boy ran off after the young woman.

_I just hope they don't get into an argument in front of all these people. _Layton clenched his teeth thinking of the embarrassment. He rationalized that Emmy wouldn't start -or keep- anything going as she wasn't feeling well.

"She doesn't do well with traveling I take it?" Mildrew came up to the Professor.

"No, Emmy's just been… out of sorts lately," Layton frowned. "I really do wish she'd tell me what's the matter."

"Yes, we women are mysterious creatures."

"Indeed." The Professor looked over at his friends. Emmy was slumped over looking horribly ill while Luke ran up to her with a glass of water. He would wrap this up as quickly as possible, so he could get Emmy to the hotel and out of the sun.

"You know Hershel, in honour of the Barthalul exhibit's grand opening they're having a giant ball in the Reunion Inn three days from now." Mildrew edged her way towards Layton. "Would you care to join me?"

Layton was shocked. He felt his face flush red, and he hoped Mildrew thought it was the heat. How could he spend an entire evening with a woman he couldn't remember? Something would surely go horribly wrong. "I-I'm afraid I'll have to decline. I've got this mystery to solve… and while we're on the topic, you mentioned a stolen artifact in your letter."

"Yes, I'm afraid we had a third Barthalul artifact here in Monte d'Or," said Mildrew. She looked angry. "It went missing a few days ago, and I've been carrying the other one on me ever since." She tucked her artifact back in her pocket.

"Is there anyone in particular who would strike you as the type to steal an artifact?" asked Layton

"No, only I ever went into that tent." Mildrew shook her head. "I can't trust anyone on this dig site anymore."

"We met a man on our way in, Donny was his name, and he mentioned crew members experiencing strange dreams."

"Oh, not the nightmares again," sighed Mildrew. "It's an old tale that the Barthalul artifacts were cursed by a dark force that drove its finders mad with fright. Many of our workers are too superstitious, and it's gotten to their heads you see, so they keep having bad dreams at night. But that's all they are, nightmares."

She pulled out a tube of Chap Stick and smeared it on her lips. Layton tried his best not to make a face. He did not know what sent it was, but it was horrible…something between sulfur and burning plastic. "Excuse the smell," she said. "It's so dry out here, and this is the only brand I find that works."

"I see," said Layton, letting his hand slide off his nose and under his chin. "This is all very interesting, but it has been a long day, and I really should be getting those two out of the heat." He motioned to Emmy and Luke. "I'll convene with them tonight, and perhaps tomorrow we can catch breakfast with you to continue with the case."

"That would be wonderful," Mildrew smiled and leaned dangerously close to the Professor. "I look forward to it Hershel."

Layton watched Mildrew walked off in the direction of her tent and couldn't help but feel relieved. He went over to join his assistant and apprentice. All this new information about the possible map to Barthalul's Door, the thievery of the artifact, and the bizarre nightmares needed some looking into. At the moment, however, Layton had a bigger issue to deal with.

He looked at the two, sitting together on the bench. Luke had worked his magic and a smile spread on Emmy's face.

_Oh Emmy,_ he thought and his heart sunk a little, _what's eating at your conscience my dear?_

* * *

**Author's Note:** I hope you guys are enjoying reading this as much as I am writing it. And a big thanks to reviewers, I really appreciate it :)


	5. Altava vs the World

**Author's Note: **I just watched the cutscenes from Miracle Mask plus, and might I say I'm a little sad that Emmy and Layton dancing was just Luke's dream (on the other hand the boy ships the two, at least subconsciously).

I love reading your reviews by the way. Now onward to the next chapter!

* * *

Chapter 5: Altava vs. the World

The evening went quietly for Emmy. Layton had tried to get her and Luke's thoughts on the case at hand, but he quickly backed off -much to her relief- when she refused to say anything. She told the Professor she just felt car sick from the long drive in the heat, and he sort of bought it because he didn't go all worry-mode on her again.

They had decided to stay at the Dromedary Hotel, but could only afford one room. The Professor insisted she take a bed, as she was feeling ill, and Emmy -partially because she was playing along, and partially because he was being a gentleman, but mostly because the bed looked really, _really_ comfortable- accepted without a complaint.

As Emmy laid there trying to sleep, there was a small part of her that wished Layton had asked if anything else was wrong. She, of course would probably deny anything of the nature, as she had for the past two days, but maybe, just maybe he'd be more specific…

…like he'd noticed her unease around talks of Barthalul … Or the way Audrey Mildrew had given her a look when she asked about Warren Coates. Surely an intelligent man like Layton would have noticed that….

Or she was just being paranoid.

_Warren Coates_, Emmy shuddered at the thought. Surely that couldn't be a coincidence. There was probably more than one Warren Coates in the world, but Mildrew had looked right at _her_ when she mentioned the name. And of course there was still the sender of the letter to figure out….

Emmy reached into her pyjama pocket and pulled out the crinkled piece of paper. She knew Layton was curious about the letter, and although he would never go through her things, she just felt the need to keep it on her. Especially when she was still trying to figure out who would have this knowledge of her.

She smoothed the letter out and thrust it into the moonlight flowing through the window. Even in the dim light she could make out what it said:

_Where did Coates hide it? I know that you know where it is, Miss Altava. I am I patient man, but if it isn't found by the time the others are gathered, I will come asking. _

_And I will get my answer._

Now that Mildrew mentioned Coates, this letter was relevant to the case. But showing the Professor would raise so many other questions, and ones Emmy did not feel like answering. If he asked her about Coates directly though would she show him?

_Stupid Mildrew, making things more complicated,_ Emmy huffed and tucked the letter away. S_he couldn't possible know…_Emmy shook the thought from her head. _No, she couldn't I'm just paranoid._ It still made her uneasy.

Worst was that the Professor seemed to trust the woman; he had invited her to eat breakfast with them for god sakes!

_Why is everything against me these days? _Emmy almost wished she'd wake up sick in the morning. If only to avoid confronting Mildrew again.

* * *

Unfortunately the world had other ideas.

Emmy woke up feeling alright. Alright enough to go to breakfast with Audrey Mildrew. Both Layton and Luke were still asleep, so she decided to take a shower.

Maybe she would experience a sudden wave of dizziness and slip, eliminating the option of joining them to interview Mildrew. _Coward_, Emmy scolded herself. She would just have to deal with all the Barthalul talk, and hope Warren Coates wasn't brought up again. She really didn't want to have to deal with telling Layton about her-

"Claire no!"

Emmy was in the process of climbing into the shower when she heard someone scream. She wrapped a towel around herself and peaked into the room. Layton tossed and turned in the chair mumbling something about "never leaving again."

Emmy frowned. Claire was the woman whose picture the Professor kept in his sock drawer. He was obviously dreaming about her; whoever she was. It didn't sound like a very happy dream.

"Please Claire, stay," he mumbled.

She'd never seen the Professor so upset before, and it unnerved her a little to know the man she held so highly had bad dreams. Perhaps the ranting of nightmares by the man they'd met at the dig site –yes, Donny was his name- had gotten to the Professor's head? On the other hand she wasn't the only one with problems it seemed.

She stepped back into the shower and turned the water on. It was cool and refreshing, and Emmy found herself singing once again. She had a habit of singing when she sought distraction, and no one was around to hear her.

She turned the water off and pulled back the curtains to find someone standing there. Both Emmy and the person shrieked and she yanked the curtains over to cover herself. She gingerly peaked around the corner to find a mortified Luke.

"Luke! What the hell!" Emmy exclaimed.

"I-I'm sorry Emmy," the boy covered his eyes and turned around. "I had to go really badly, I couldn't wait, and I thought I'd be out before you'd finished and-"

"It's okay Luke," said Emmy taking a deep breath. "Just please leave."

"I need to wash my hands…."

"Okay, but hurry!"

As the boy awkwardly washed his hands in the limited space of the hotel washroom, Emmy reached for a towel.

"What happened to your arm?" asked Luke drying his hands off.

Emmy looked at the fading scratches and scraps on her upper arm. She had similar scraps along her entire right side, nothing but a reminder as to the misfortunes of her "holiday". She could see it happening again: her scooter, the rain, the road, and the ground coming all too fast…. Just one of the many memories from last week she'd rather live without.

"Emmy are you okay? Does it hurt? It looks like it hurts," Luke looked at her with those sweet eyes of his. She was almost willing to forgive him for walking in on her like this.

"I'm fine," she lied. "And turn around Luke, please. Stop staring at me! … It stung a little at the time, but I'm all better now."

Luke turned his head to look away. "How did it happen?"

"Just a… little accident." She couldn't tell Luke the truth, about how she'd trashed her scooter, because he'd tell the Professor who'd worry and ask her about it, and she'd have to explain everything including Warren Coates and how he-

No she couldn't ever tell anyone about that.

"While I was on vacation I was climbing a wall… yes a wall, to take a photograph, and I er… slipped and fell," Emmy flashed an awkward smile. "Should have listened to the Professor and not done anything reckless."

_Yes you should have taken that advice_, Emmy thought to herself. _You were the definition of reckless that whole trip!_

"Um… okay," said Luke as he crept out the door. "And Emmy, I'm really, really sorry for walking in on you," he added a little red faced.

"I know _second assistant_, I know."

For once Luke didn't correct her.

* * *

After the boys got ready for the day, the three walked into town from the Dromedary Hotel, to meet Mildrew at a nearby café. Monte d'Or was bustling as usual with crowds of masked people and gamblers with money burning holes in their pockets.

"We should pay Randall and Angela a visit later," said Layton. "I would also love to ask Randall and Henry about what they know of the Barthalul exhibit and Warren Coates."

Emmy tried her best to block out the last part and smiled, "It will be nice to see the Ascots and Henry again."

"Yes it will be wonderful. Randall has been successful in picking up his life and it's about time I talk to him in person," said Layton looking ahead at Luke, who was busy taking in the scene of the city. "I heard about your little washroom incident this morning."

"That was…embarrassing to say the least," Emmy blushed. She wondered if Luke mentioned the road rash on her arm.

"I gave him a good talking to, about how a gentleman should always respect a lady's privacy and knock on closed doors," the Professor sighed. "I'm sorry, I know Luke's been acting out on you lately. And you haven't been feeling the best these past days, and I think he's just worried you. We both are."

"Well, I haven't exactly helped matters," said Emmy, knowing her teasing ignited most of their fights. "Still he can be a pain in the—"

"I found the café!" Luke shouted, interrupting Emmy mid-sentence. "Hurry up slowpokes, Miss Mildrew is already here!"

"I'll race you Professor," said Emmy.

"Well now, I don't know if I race anymore, I-"

"Oh come on," she grabbed his hand and pulled him along. "You've still got some pep in you. You're not that old." She winked and the two sprinted down the street.

* * *

"I do hope you weren't waiting long Miss Mildrew," said Layton to Mildrew as they entered the café.

"Oh no, not at all," she replied and moved over in the booth so Luke could sit beside her. "And please call me Audrey, we know each other well enough"

"Yes, of course… Audrey." Emmy noticed the hesitation in the Professor's voice. He still had no clue who this woman was. She glared at Mildrew who had clearly cleaned up and was now wearing makeup and a rather low cut top, and continued to bat her eyes Layton's way.

_Give me a break_, Emmy rolled her eyes. _Does the world really hate me this much?_

"Now," said Mildrew, still fixed on the Professor. "I hope you can help me with this missing artifact."

After ordering breakfast and tea, the four began a discussion into the case.

"So you're sure no one around the dig site seemed suspicious. Perhaps they were a little too interested in the artifacts? Or they tried to sneak a look at them in the tent?" Layton wanted to be sure there were no more leads on the thief.

"Well," said Mildrew, "everyone was interested in the artifacts, this discovery is huge after all. I'm a little wary of my entire crew to be honest. In terms of suspicious characters… well some of the workers aren't the cleanest folks, but a while back, there was one man." Emmy swore Mildrew flashed her a wry smile. "Warren Coates, I mentioned him before, the man was a huge collector of everything Barthalul. He wanted in on our investigation. He even offered me money for the artifacts!"

"How much money?" said Layton.

"Oh, thousands of dollars Hershel! I don't know what the man did, but he had spare change to spend."

Emmy noticed Mildrew leaning a little too far onto the table; her hair was almost falling into the Professor's tea. _ She could lay off a tad,_ Emmy sighed. She was trying her best not to freak out with all the Barthalul and Warren Coates talk, but Mildrew's advances on Layton were bothering her more.

"So you think Coates stole the artifact?" Emmy nearly spat the words out.

"Oh no, he died before it was stolen," Mildrew backed off the table to glare at Emmy.

"Is there anything else you can tell us about him?" asked Emmy. She wanted this over with.

"No," said Mildrew simply. "I didn't know the man well. But he was a respected lawyer from what I'm told." Mildrew shifted in her seat to better face Emmy. "Why the sudden interest in Mr. Coates, Miss Altava? Is there something you had to add?"

Emmy rose from the table, almost knocking the plates off as she stood. "Please excuse me for a moment," she said, and headed off to the washroom.

"What's wrong with Emmy?" asked Luke, taking a break from his meal for the first time to speak.

Layton turned a concerned eye to Mildrew. He sensed the tension between the two, and it was certainly not helping matters, with Emmy being already in a sensitive position.

"She'll be fine Luke I'm sure," said Mildrew, and she pulled out her foul smelling Chap Stick and put it on. Layton could not see how she could stand the stuff. Even Luke made a noticeable face. She turned her focus back on him. "This café, it reminds me of the first time we met."

"Yes," said Layton trying not to blush in embarrassment for he had no recollection of this. "It was… a wonderful day."

"It was horrible and rainy," Mildrew brushed her hand in the air. "Always the optimist you were." She smiled and took Layton's hand. "I still can't change your mind about the ball tomorrow night?"

Layton eased his hand away, praying that the gesture didn't come off rude. "I've got the case to solve, there's really no time."

Luke looked quizzically at the two adults. The way Miss Mildrew acted in front of the Professor was bizarre. He wasn't sure he liked Mildrew all that much. The Professor looked quite uncomfortable in her presence, and she knew how to push Emmy's buttons better than he did - although Emmy looked a lot angrier when Mildrew did it. The boy decided it was time to save his mentor from the embarrassment and did what he did best.

"So what exactly is behind Barthalul's Door?" Luke asked the question clearly so he'd be heard.

This snapped Mildrew out of her fawning and she sat back – much to Layton's relief - and cleared her throat. "They say knowledge of all the ancient world. Other stories say a curse that will end it, but I'm sure it's not that. No one's really certain though. It's just another mystery to be solved."

"A curse that ends the world? Maybe we'll be the ones to solve it!" Luke exclaimed. "Wouldn't that be amazing Professor?"

"Amazing to solve what?" asked Emmy coming back from seemingly nowhere.

"What lies beyond Barthalul's Door," said Mildrew.

"If it even exists," Emmy mumbled and looked out the window. _Are we seriously still talking about that stupid door?_ she thought.

"Emmy," said Layton a little estranged by her pessimism. "I am very confident it exists."

"I'm just saying…," she sighed, and sat back in the booth. Emmy loved a good mystery as much as the next puzzle solver, but the legend of Barthalul's Door was one she prayed remain a legend. She had a sinking feeling that this search for the Great Philosopher's secrets was going to tear her world apart.

Looking at the Professor and Luke, she knew they were both ready to dive into this mystery head first.

It that moment she was the odd man out.

In that moment it really did feel like the world was out to get her.

_And to think¸_ she sighed,_ I'm barely hanging on._


	6. The Great Philosopher Barthalul

**Author's Note**: You'll notice a format change from this chapter on (nothing big, just the way scene breaks are established)

* * *

Chapter 6: The Great Philosopher Barthalul

After breakfast with Mildrew, Layton decided it was best to head off to the Ascot estate, to visit Angela and Randall, and ask them if they knew anything concerning the case.

Layton was relived to be out of Mildrew's presence, as she seemed keener on flirting than finding the thief. And of course, he still had no idea where he knew her from.

Emmy's demeanor changed drastically too. She walked down the street with a smile on her face, one that was natural and kind. He could still tell she was troubled, and there was tension between her and Mildrew, and he had been very worried a fight would break out in the restaurant - thankfully Emmy had had a moment of maturity and walked away. He made a note to avoid putting both women in a confined space together again.

The estate was a large mansion and the trio happily walked up to the front door and knocked. A blonde woman, none other than Angela Ascot, poked her head out. Her face lit up at the sight of her guests.

She ran out and greeted each of them with a hug. "Hershel, I wasn't expecting you," she said after pulling away from Layton.

"Professor, did you forget to call?" asked Emmy.

"Um…, the thought did slip my mind." Layton cleared his throat. "Please excuse us for the sudden visit, but we are in town solving a mystery and thought we'd stop by."

"The missing Barthalul artifact right?" Angela looked concerned.

"Yes, we're trying to figure out who stole it," said Luke.

"Then please come in," said Angela. "I'll put on some tea."

The four were soon sitting in the living room with each a hot cup of tea in hand. Luke was presently spooning mounds of sugar into his.

"Would you like some tea with that?" Emmy teased.

"Hey, you had a fair spoonful of sugar yourself," the boy defended stirring his drink.

"Yes, a spoonful. It looks like you used a ladle."

While Emmy and Luke continued back and forth, Angela informed Layton of her knowledge on the case.

"The missing artifact has put Randall and Henry in quite the rut these past days. Neither can stand the woman in charge of the excavation Audrey Mildrew," she said. "Have you met her yet?"

"Oh, yes Mildrew's quite the character."

"Now Emmy," said Layton giving his assistant a stern look for her last comment. "We met with Miss Mildrew and have all the facts for this robbery. However, the second reason we are here is that I was hoping to ask Randall and Henry a few questions concerning this case."

"The two of them have been busy at the museum, preparing for the opening night of the Barthalul exhibit," Angela looked concerned once more. "It's all in honour of Warren Coates, he was a Barthalul enthusiast."

"Who is Mr. Coates?" asked Luke, pulling out his notebook.

"He moved here a while back, and he had money like you wouldn't believe." Angela glanced around the room nervously. "Not to speak ill of the dead, but there's a rumour that Mr. Coates was involved in some bad things, that that's where all his money came from, and that someone wanted revenge."

"You're saying Coates' death was not accidental?" Layton asked.

Everyone's attention turned to Emmy, who was presently choking on her tea. She coughed again and cleared her throat, "Sorry, wrong pipe."

"Well, they say he died of natural cause, but apparently he had many enemies. You should really speak to Henry about it. He met the man a couple of times."

"Then we best be off," said Layton. "Thank you for the company and tea Angela."

"Oh, let me come with you to the museum," she said. "It's about time I went over there to drag Randall home. I swear he could spend eternity around artifacts. I've barely seen him this week."

"Sounds like someone else we know doesn't it Professor," said Emmy giving him a nudge.

Layton laughed. Getting lost in the ancient world, and forgetting the present was surely something he and Randall had a habit of doing.

\-\-\

Barthalul was the spotlight of Monte d'Or's museum. Huge banners hung from the museum walls with arrows pointing in the direction of the exhibit. Another set of posters advertised the grand opening and the ball in the coming days. A huge display of a theorized Barthalul's Door blocked off the entrance.

"The exhibit opens in two days," said Angela. "It's been a mad scramble for everyone involved."

Layton took a moment to look over the design. Whoever made the replica had done a fabulous job with the Azran symbols. _ Randall must have been a part of the creation_, he thought, knowing his friend was an Azran enthusiast.

"Do you like the Door Hershel? I spent a good few days with an artist designing it." As if he heard Layton's thoughts Randall Ascot walked over to meet them. Behind the man came Henry, who was looking awfully tired with giant bags under his eyes.

"Why Randall and Henry, it's good to see you well," said Layton, adjusting his top hat a little and walking over to greet his friends. "And the Door looks lovely."

"It's good to see you old friend. And your trusty apprentice," Randall ran over to shake hands with Luke. He walked over to Emmy and the two shared a hug. "You seem well Em."

"Yes, thank you," said Emmy. "Angela's told us all about the exhibit. I can't wait to see it."

"I can't wait to finally see you Mr. Ascot," Angela looked crossly at her husband.

Randall laughed nervously and kissed her on the cheek. "Sorry Ange, I promise we're almost done."

After everyone finished the reunion –and Angela scolded Randall for being too occupied with work- Randall and Henry lead them behind the replicated Barthalul's Door, and into the main attraction.

"This," said Randall spreading his arms wide, "is what Henry and I have been busy with for the past few weeks."

Layton, Luke and Emmy stared in awe of the exhibit. A lot of time and effort had to have gone into it. There were stations on the walls describing Barthalul himself, and theories on the secrets behind his Door, and pictures from the dig site on the outskirts of the city, and at the center of the room, perched on a podium stood the star of the whole thing: the Barthalul artifact. This one was the largest they had seen so far, at least as tall as Luke.

"Wow Professor, Miss Mildrew was right, they really do come in all sizes," said the boy in wonder. He pinched his fingers together trying to compare this one with the tiny artifact that fit in Mildrew's palm.

Layton walked over to a panel with information on Barthalul. It read:

_The origin of the Great Philosopher known only as Barthalul, to this day remains a mystery. He was of Azran decent and was said to have known all the lost secrets of the ancient world. These secrets he kept hidden behind a legendary Door, which could only be opened with five keys, known today as Barthalul artifacts. The location of the Door is also shrouded in mystery and its very existence is debated in the archeological community._

_ Finding Barthalul's Door would bridge a gap between the past and the present, although not everyone believes its discovery would be beneficial. Controversies have risen as to what the Door is hiding. Many rumours have been told that Barthalul placed a curse on the Door before it closed and the five keys dispersed. This cursed drove those who tried to steal his secrets mad with fright, and remnants remaining on the artifacts (the five keys) are said to still give people nightmares when exposed. The entity of the curse is said to lie within the chamber behind the Door, and this is all still a theory, but one that nonetheless raises some concerns. _

"Professor, could this curse have caused the nightmares at the worksite?" Emmy said suddenly. Layton jumped a little. He hadn't seen her join him.

"Miss Mildrew did mention this to me earlier, she figured the legend went to her workers' heads. But she did have two artifacts at the site," he said. "I suppose it's a possibility. Certainly something to consider…."

An ancient curse sounded ridiculous in Layton's opinion, but he couldn't write off the fact that the workers at the Akbadain ruins were having strange nightmares. Especially after the nightmare he'd had last night. Layton felt his hand moving towards his coat where Claire's picture still resided. He felt a slight pain in his chest.

Randall walked up to the two and threw his arms around Layton and Emmy's shoulders. "I think the idea of a dark entity guarding the Door is an exhilarating." He had that mischievous glint in his eye that Layton knew all too well. "So Hershel, what do you think the curse would make you see?"

Layton swallowed. He knew very well what his worst fears were. But they were such horrible thoughts he hated even thinking about them, especially after that last dream with Claire…. He looked at Emmy nervously.

"Mine would be spiders I think," she said, giving Layton a concerned look. "I can't stand those creepy crawlies. What about you Luke?"

Luke spun around from the other side of the room. He was busy looking at some Azran scripture with Henry. "I don't know…maybe losing my teddy, or waking up one day and not being the Professor's apprentice, or the ice cream shop by the University getting swallowed by a tornado, or…."

Everyone laughed as Luke's list went on and on about ridiculous things. Layton sighed and gave a mental thanks to Emmy for getting him out of that situation. He found his eyes trained on her a little longer than he intended. In that moment, with her laughing and smiling, and standing next to him, Layton found she resembled Claire in the tiniest bit. The thought of her made his heart sink.

"Are you all right Professor?" Emmy waved her hand in his face, effectively snapping him out of his daze.

"Yes, I'm fine my dear." But just as he knew Emmy was hiding something at the moment, Layton knew that his assistant wasn't fooled by his response.

"Emmy, come take a picture of me with this sculpture!" Luke called from across the room.

A smile of glee filled Emmy's face and she bounded off after the boy. "Don't you dare move _second assistant_! You're in the perfect position!"

"Make it a group photo Em." Randall grabbed Angela's hand and pulled her across the room to join Luke in the photograph.

Layton smiled, happy to see his loved ones enjoying themselves. His attention turned to Henry who was fixing a sign near the exhibit's entrance. Layton walked over and noticed a picture of a middle aged man he did not know.

"This is the late Warren Coates," Henry sighed and readjusted the photo. "It was through his generous donations and last wishes that we we're able to make this exhibit possible."

"You don't seem pleased with this," Layton noted.

Henry gritted his teeth. "Coates was what we shall call a Barthalul enthusiast. The man was a collector, and was constantly harassing the museum to sell him the artifact." Henry motioned to the piece in the center of the room. "Every time I declined, but the man wouldn't take no for an answer."

"Miss Mildrew told me a similar story about the artifacts at her dig site," said Layton intrigued. "And now one is missing."

"Coates was dead long before that artifact went missing. The woman was crazy to leave them out in the open like that. No wonder one got stolen." Henry shook his head sadly. "Still, I never did trust Coates."

"Exactly who was he?" asked Layton. "I know he had money, and was involved in some shady dealings, but that's as far as my knowledge on Mr. Coates goes."

"I'm afraid Coates' is a sad story," Henry motioned for Layton to take a step into another room, his office. "He had a family once upon a time, but his wife died in a car accident many years ago, and his daughter ran away soon after. This broke the man's heart so he turned to alcohol and Barthalul to fill his void. I'll tell you Hershel he stunk of liquor every time I saw him, be it morning or night. Before he was an alcoholic he had been a lawyer, pulled some strings for some characters, and had enough money to support his hobbies by the time his investments kicked in. I already told you he tried to buy artifacts off me and Miss Mildrew, but there was one other place he tried…"

Layton sat forward anxiously.

"…There is an underground man –if you know what I mean- here in Monte d'Or and he supposedly had ways of obtaining a Barthalul piece."

Layton frowned. He did not like the idea that the mob was involved in this case, especially with Warren Coates' cause of death in question. "Do you know who Henry?"

"His name is Isaac Nando. I don't know if he really has information on the fifth Barthalul artifact, as no one is sure where it is, but he had contact with Coates before he died." Henry looked at Layton sternly. "I can take you to him Hershel, if you'd like. Without Emmy and Luke of course, this could be dangerous."

Layton thought to himself for a moment, knowing full well the potential consequences of getting involved with a gang. However, information from this Isaac Nando could be vital to the case. "I'll let that one sit for a while Henry," he said. "If you don't mind, could you look more into Warren Coates? I'm curious about the loss of his family and his downward spiral, and also his death. It might be a dead end, but it's worth checking out."

"Of course, I'll run over to the police station right now and let them know," Henry turned towards his office door.

"And make sure you get some rest Henry, you look exhausted," Layton added. Henry smiled and led Layton back into the museum's main entrance where everyone else was waiting.

"Professor," said Luke running up to him. "Randall and Angela have invited us back for dinner. We can go right?"

"Why of course my boy," said Layton. "A gentleman would never refuse such a kind offer."

As everyone piled out the door to return to the Ascot estate, Randall noticed something amiss. "Where's Em?" he said, taking his arm off Angela for a moment. "I swear she was right behind us."

"I'll go back to check," Layton offered, and returned inside.

He found Emmy still in the exhibit. "My dear, it is time to go. The museum's closing and these people want to go home."

"Oh, I'm sorry Professor," she said. Her eyes were glued on the poster near the exit, the one with Warren Coates' picture. "I just needed a moment alone." She smiled and went to meet everyone outside, brushing his hand as she passed him. "I'm okay, don't worry about it."

This small gesture caused Layton to blush a little and he turned to join her.

The moment the pair stepped out the door, Randall flashed Layton a mischievous look. "What took you two so long?"

"We weren't that long Randall," Layton replied, but he felt a little uncomfortable at his friend's plotting smile. The very same that had often gotten them in a world of trouble during their Stansbury days.

As they all walked back to the Ascot Estate, he couldn't help but stare at Emmy, marching ahead of the pack with an excited Luke.

_"I just needed a moment alone" _she'd said. Layton thought back to Warren Coates, who'd spent his life revolved around Barthalul, a long dead man. How the poor man must have wished more than anything in this world to have the opposite.

_A moment with someone._

Layton sighed. This only reminded him of his own loneliness. He placed his hand over his heart where Claire's photo sat, tucked away in his pocket.


	7. Have a Little Fun Professor!

Chapter 7: Have a Little Fun Professor!

Dinner at the Ascots was simple, yet delightful. Randall threw some steaks on the grill, and they all had a lovely barbecue in the garden. Most talk consisted of Layton catching up with his two friends and their busy life in the bustling city. The sun had just started fading behind the bright buildings of Monte d'Or when clean-up began. While Emmy and Angela went inside to wash dishes, the boys had decided to enjoy the evening air over a cup of tea.

"So Hersh," said Randall once the woman were out of ear-shot. "Is there any chance you'd care for a double date to the ball tomorrow? It's for the grand opening of the exhibit and I'm going with Ange, but I could use a male-friend as Henry is too busy."

"I would like to Randall, but I have nothing to wear." Layton was a little taken aback by the sudden offer. "And more importantly no date." He thought back to Mildrew's persistence on him coming. Randall was a dear friend, but he couldn't imagine having to spend the evening with Mildrew while he pretended to remember their past meetings.

"You can borrow one of my suits and take Em with you," said Randall coolly.

"She's my assistant Randall." Layton casually took a sip of tea.

"Exactly, and she'll be assisting you as a dance partner."

"I'll think about it," Layton set his cup down and sighed. From past experience he knew there was no use arguing with Randall. But could he really take Emmy to this dance?

He quickly changed the topic. "It's a shame Henry's missing it. I do hope he isn't working himself too hard." He felt guilty that he'd given the poor man more work, when he was already so busy with the Barthalul exhibit opening in the next few days.

"He's fine Hersh," said Randall as he put an elbow on his friend's shoulder. "Henry was made to be a busy bee. I swear he spends more time at the museum than at his flat."

"I think we all have that issue when it comes to work," Layton chuckled remembering the many times Emmy had to remind him to take a break. _What would I do without her?_ he sighed.

Layton looked guiltily over at Luke, who was in the garden searching for bugs under rocks. He really wasn't spending as much time with the boy as he should.

"Hey, Luke what've you got there?" Randall called.

The boy looked up and waved. "Just some worms and spiders. Emmy would hate these."

"Well then let's catch some and put them in her boots." Randall sprang up from his seat to join Luke in the bug hunt. Layton had always admired Randall's eagerness and ease in jumping into situations. He wished he could have a little of it, if only for Luke's sake.

He watched as Randall reached into the dirt and pulled out a worm. "This is a nice, plump one here! Imagine her face…."

"Eww Randall, putting worms in a lady's boots is something a gentleman should never do. Even if the lady is _only_ Emmy," Luke giggled. "Isn't that right Professor?"

"Correct, my boy." Layton shook his head as Randall waved the worm mischievously in Luke's face –much to the boy's disgust. He ran squealing behind the Professor, and Randall turned to him with a grin.

"Hersh, you know what I'm thinking?" said Randall with a hint of excitement in his eyes.

"Oh no," Layton gulped. "Not Worm Wars Randall."

"Yes, Worm Wars!" he cried, "Every gentleman loves Worm Wars." He charged at Layton with the poor earthworm dangling in his hand.

Layton stood in shock as Randall weaved behind him in pursuit of Luke. He remembered this game very well from when they were young. He and Randall often found many worms while digging around for artifacts which always lead to this strange game of tag –which Randall always started.

He watched the two of them running and laughing and having a grand time. When Emmy wasn't bickering with Luke she frequently engaged him with games such as this. Luke never seemed more happy or carefree than when playing, and Layton wished he could join in. But he had always felt too old for such foolery –Emmy was younger than him after all, and well…Emmy, so immature behaviour was expected- but seeing Randall, someone his own age engage in such a silly game….

"You're it Luke, I touched you with the worm!"

"Okay fine," said the boy and he turned to Layton with a grin. "Watch out Professor, I'm coming for you next!"

"Luke, I-I don't really want to play…."

The boy gave him a confused look. "What d'you mean? Don't you want to have fun Professor?"

Layton swallowed. This was such a silly thing to do, but he couldn't stand to upset Luke by not partaking. _Besides, it couldn't hurt…_, he concluded.

Layton smiled and ran from his apprentice. Oh, what a silly game this was. He and Randall were much too old for this childish nonsense. A joy spread over him as he gained distance on Luke. _But it's so much fun! Well maybe not for the poor worm, but I'd forgotten the things Randall and I used to do. _Layton sighed, and slowed down a bit so Luke could catch him. _It's a shame I never introduced this to Claire, she would have found it amusing…._

"Tag, you're it Professor!"

Layton, slightly out of breath, accepted the worm and turned to his two opponents. "Well, I suppose a true gentleman knows how to have fun!" he called, letting loose a little, and charged forward.

\-\-\

"What in the world are they doing?"

Emmy paused from drying dishes momentarily to peer out the window at the most peculiar scene taking place outside. One minute the Professor and Randall had been having a nice after dinner chat over tea, and the next they were chasing Luke through the yard with what appeared to be…worms?

"Oh dear Worm Wars," Angela shook her head as she joined Emmy. "It's this game those two made up when they were teenagers. Boys never grow up do they?"

"No I suppose not," said Emmy, surprised that the Professor would do anything of the sort. He didn't seem like the type to engage in anything so childish. _Well, well Professor, it seems there's a side to you that isn't all top hats and gentlemanly doings after all. _

She smiled and she went back to drying. Although Angela didn't seem impressed by her husband's immaturity, Emmy thought it looked like a lot of fun. Worms were slimy and gross, but nothing compared to spiders! _And of course spiders are nothing compared to some other things_. She frowned.

"Are you okay Emmy?" asked Angela with a concerned look.

"I'm fine," she replied and grabbed another plate to dry. "Why do you ask?"

Angela shrugged. "You look a little stressed, that's all. Is everything alright between you and Hershel?"

Emmy raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I don't see why it wouldn't be."

"Both of you just seem…more tense together than the last I saw you."

Emmy shrugged. Angela was a good friend of the Professor's, but Emmy barely knew her. She didn't want to have this serious talk, least of all with an acquaintance. "It's just… this case."

Angela frowned. "Maybe both of you need a little fun in your life. Hershel seems to be in the mood," she motioned to the continuing game of tag outside. "Oh, I know! Have you heard about the ball for the grand opening of the Barthalul exhibit?"

"Sort of." At the mention of the philosopher Emmy didn't like where this was going.

"Well, it's tomorrow, and I think you and Hershel should go… just as friends of course," Angela added the last bit as an afterthought and handed Emmy another clean dish. "Randall and I are going, it would be fun. We can have some girl time when the guys get tired; the boys could never keep up dancing with me back in the day. And I'm sure we can find you a dress in one of the shops."

"Oh, I really don't have the money at the moment." Emmy hoped Angela would back off as she really didn't feel like going. This wasn't a complete lie as Emmy was tight on cash, especially with the expenses for her wrecked scooter to pay for.

_Not to mention I would look horrendous in a dress at the moment_ , thought Emmy knowing that her still fading road rash would show, and raise more questions with the Professor.

"You can borrow one of mine," she insisted. "Stop by at four tomorrow, and I'll do your hair and makeup too."

Emmy would feel horrible declining at this point. From Angela's tone she realized the woman must have planned this whole invite beforehand. She must have been dying for company with Randall out so much.

She smiled, deciding that a little night of dancing couldn't hurt. Maybe it would be good for her to do something social and fun, and with the Professor nonetheless . "Of course I will. But only if the Professor wants to." _Oh god_, the thought dawned on her. _What if the Professor doesn't want to dance with me? What if he'd rather go back to the hotel and flip through volumes of archeological encyclopaedias and—_

Her train of thought was interrupted by a face full of water. She wiped water from her eyes and turned to find Angela hiding a smile with the faucet pointed her way.

"The boys can't have all the fun," she said, and received a splash from Emmy in return. They smiled wryly at each other and a miniature water fight ensued.

\-\-\

Layton, Luke and Randall –now each armed with an unlucky earthworm- chased each other around the yard in an attempt to tag one another. Just as Randall was closing in, Layton spotted a familiar freckled blonde woman peering into the gate. He stopped in his tracks.

"Tag!" Randall shouted. He paused to see what his friend was looking at and his jaw dropped. "Come on in Miss Mildrew!" he called and he tossed his earthworm to the side, hopping she didn't notice. Oh, what Angela would have to say if she knew a guest had witnessed something as immature as this….

"Mr. Ascot, a pleasure to see you," said Mildrew with a smile. She turned to Layton and took a step towards him. She took his hand and stared oddly when she noticed something wiggling between his fingers.

"What's this?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, just a worm," said Layton as he threw it away. "Randall and I were… helping Luke collect them. They boy loves animals you see." From the corner of his eye he saw Randall sigh in relief at his clever fib.

"Well, that's kind of you." She smiled and leaned closer. Layton could feel her breath on his neck –surprisingly it didn't smell like her funky Chap Stick- and his spine tensed. He glanced nervously at Randall, who was perplexed by the whole situation.

"I just wanted to ask one more time, as the third time's the charm, are you certain you won't go to the ball with me?" Mildrew batted her eyes and pouted. At this point Randall was trying not to burst out in laughter.

"I-I told you before, this case-"

"You've got that assistant of yours, Emmy right? I'm sure she could work the case and babysit your apprentice for a few hours."

Layton gritted his teeth. This was most definitely awkward, but he didn't want to offend her.

But he also really didn't want to accompany her to the ball. "Miss Mildre- Audrey," he said as sternly as he could. "I really don't think it's fair of me to put so much on Emmy's plate. She'd had a stressful week, off visiting far away family and such."

_Oh, dear_, he thought afterword._ It's not appropriate for a gentleman to bring up his assistant's personal doings with a stranger_.

"Well I don't think it's a fair thing to ask of me either."

Mildrew pulled away from Layton to face the owner of the voice. Emmy stood in the doorway to the Ascot estate, arms crossed and dripping wet for some odd reason. "And the Professor will not be able to accompany you to the ball, as I will be taking him." She marched up to Mildrew, and stood her ground.

"Very well," said Mildrew, brushing herself off, without much of a fight. "I hope you have fun at the ball. I'll contact you if I find out anymore on the stolen Barthalul artifact," she said to Layton. She then turned to Emmy with a look of disdain. "You enjoy his company, _Miss Altava_."

And with that Mildrew left in a huff.

"Well," said Randall after a moment's silence. "That was the most unnerving yet entertaining experience I've had in a while." He laughed. "Mildrew's obsessed with you Hersh. I didn't know you were such a lady's man. And I think you owe one to Em here."

"Yes, thank you for that Emmy." _What a most embarrassing experience… I do hope Miss Mildrew understands that I'm not interested now, _Layton blushed a bit. He took note that Emmy was dripping wet. "My dear, what happened to you?"

Emmy laughed, "While you boys we're busy with your 'Worm Wars', Angela and I decided to have a little 'Water Wars'."

"Oh, I see," Layton felt his face grow hotter. _Oh bother, she witnessed the worm incident…._

"Hey," Randall butted into the conversation. "Hersh, aren't you going to respond to your lady's proposal."

"Why yes, of course," Layton cleared his throat and turned to Emmy. "Er… and that proposal was?"

"To take her to the dance you fool!" Randall threw his arms in the air and sighed.

Layton was at a loss for words. He turned to Emmy who smiled sweetly at him. He thought she had just said that to get Mildrew off his back, but now that Randall brought it up he wondered if Emmy really did want to be his date to the ball. It would be rude of him to decline at this point, and if he must attend the event he could think of no better person to take. _Even if she is my assistant, and this could be considered unprofessional…._

"E-emmy," it surprised him how nervous he felt speaking to her. "… it would be my pleasure to be your partner at the ball tomorrow."

"Thank you Professor," she smiled and have him a little nudge with her elbow. "It's not like you really had a choice in the matter though."

"I guess we best find you a suit," said Randall throwing an arm around his friend.

"I don't think we'll have time for that Randall. I need tomorrow morning to continue the investigation…."

"I told you already, just come on over in the afternoon and you can borrow one of mine," he said.

"And don't worry about the case Professor. Luke and I will put as much work into it as possible tomorrow morning." Emmy's posture remained confident, but Layton had noticed a slight waver in her voice. _Is she…nervous?_ he thought.

"Yes, the two of you always do," he said. "I'm very confident we'll get this solved."

Emmy smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. From the corner of his vision, Layton couldn't help but catch her big brown eyes; she looked as if she were about to say something. As if she wanted to say something.

"Professor…I—"

"Tag!" cried Luke as he ran past Emmy. All eyes turned to Luke, giving him a puzzled look. Layton had forgotten the boy was still fully involved in the game of Worm Wars. Realizing that no one else was still playing, Luke smiled sheepishly and backed away.

Feeling sorry for him, Emmy chased after Luke. "Get back here _second assistant_! Don't I need a worm if I'm it?"

Luke's smile returned as he realized he'd found a taker after all. "You'll have to catch me first! And I'm _apprentice number one_!" He squealed as Emmy charged and quickly gained ground. "How are you so fast?!" he cried.

Layton and Randall both laughed at the two. He always admired Emmy's ability to lose herself in something so childish.

"Em really is quite the woman," Randall said, taking note of how Layton's gaze lingered on her.

"Yes, a truly wonderful young lady." A seed of doubt sprouted in Layton, and he wondered if taking Emmy to the ball was a good idea. The two of them were so different, which was good for mystery solving, but as dance partners? _She's so outgoing, and energetic and fun. What if I can't keep up? What if—_

"Oh dear," said Layton as another thought crossed his mind. "Randall, what am I going to do with Luke while we're all at the ball?"

* * *

**Author's Note:** So I originally wrote this kind of late at night which explains those silly moments. However, I kept them, thinking Layton and friends could use some lighthearted fun before we dive into some more serious issues.

As a side note to any LaytonxEmmy shippers, I hope the news of the ball gives you hope that I haven't forgotten about the couple in question.


	8. Only Dreams

**Author's Note: **This is a bit longer than our previous chapters, and I'm quite happy with how it turned out. But I'll let you readers be the judges of that.

* * *

Chapter 8: Only Dreams

Night sprung to life in Monte d'Or by the time Layton, Emmy and Luke returned to the Dromedary Hotel. It was dark with no moon, but the many lights kept the city aglow in its ever festive spirit. Luke watched them curiously, flickering about from the window.

"They're like stars," he observed. "Only closer and on the ground." His gaze wandered off into the desert sky on the horizon, stretching out for miles beyond the City of Miracles. "You can't see the real stars in Monte d'Or. They only have lights."

"Yes," Layton sighed, "stars often get lost in the artificial lights of big cities. It's a shame really. It's something I miss about Stansbury. Angela, Randall, Henry and I frequently went star gazing when we were teenagers. "

"When the fog wasn't bad we always had stars in Misthallery too," Luke noted. "We didn't have all these lights though." He yawned, exhausted from their busy day. "Did you see stars growing up Emmy?"

The woman looked up. Angela had given her a few dresses to try on for tomorrow night, and Emmy was busily picking over them. She hadn't said much about the ball, but Layton knew she was excited, just by her sudden interest in clothing over their conversation. He had to admit that the notion of going to the dance with her filled him with giddy joy –not that he would ever show it, as he was a gentleman not a schoolboy.

"Well, I lived in big cities for most of my life," she said, and took a step towards the window, taking in the bright lights. "So I spent most of my nights without stars…. But my family owned a cottage in the countryside. And my father he…he always took me out to see them."

This was the first time Layton had ever heard anything about Emmy's life from before she was his assistant. He couldn't help but hear the twinge of sadness in her voice. _Perhaps she'd had a disagreement with her parents on her leave?_ This made sense to Layton as it would explain her off moods and early return to work. Again, he did not want to ask her and push matters, especially not in front of Luke.

Another yawn escaped Luke, and he swayed slightly.

"I think it's best if we call it a day," Layton said, feeling rather tired himself. "We can review the case in the morning, before Emmy and I join the Ascots to prepare for the ball."

It had been decided that Luke would stay at the hotel, while the others attended the festivities. The boy had found it most unfair when Layton had explained that this was an adult party –pointing out that Emmy acted more immature than himself at times. He was leery about leaving Luke alone, but Randall had promised he'd call the hotel staff and let them know to drop by the room to keep tabs.

"Sounds like a plan," said Emmy, and loud gurgle came from her stomach, disrupting the mood. All eyes turned to her in surprise. "Sorry," she said. "I think I need a snack before bed."

"I'm kinda hungry too," Luke whined.

Layton chuckled. "Why don't you two go grab something from the vending machine." He handed Emmy some money.

"Oh, no I've got this one Professor," she pushed his hand away and winked. "I'm not that broke you know."

Layton sighed, "If you insist, my dear."

Emmy opened the door and turned to Luke. "First one to the machine gets the pricier item!" She crouched down in a ready stance.

"That's no fair Emmy. You're faster than me."

"Yes, but it's my money on the line," she said. "Ready. Set. Go!"

Layton shook his head as his two companions took off down the hall. He hoped they didn't make too much of a ruckus for the sake of the poor people who were trying to sleep.

_Well, there's a reason she refused the money…and I will never understand how the two of them are always hungry._ He smiled. _Yet another of life's many mysteries._

Speaking of life and money there was something he'd been meaning to do for a while now, and with Emmy gone this was the perfect opportunity.

He picked up the hotel's phone and dialed a number. Emmy never specified how much the repairs on her scooter's transmission were going to cost her, but he figured he could do her a favour and pay for it. He was fairly certain she'd taken it to the garage down the street from the university because as an employee of Gressenheller she'd get a small discount. It was where he always took the Laytonmobile.

"Hullo," said a tired sounding man on the other line.

"So sorry to bother you at this hour, it's Hershel."

"Oh, Layton!" said the man, and his voice warmed a little. "The Laytonmobile's due for an oil change I take it?"

"Well, yes, but there was something else I was hoping you can help me with. Is there by any chance a yellow scooter at your shop licensed to an Emmy Altava?"

He heard the shuffling of papers through the phone. "Yup," the man replied.

"Is there any chance I could pay for the repairs? I understand it needs a new transmission-"

"Ho, ho, I think the scooter needs everything, but a new transmission. The things a wreck, I had to replace the…" Layton found himself zoning out as the list of repairs went on and on "…and the brakes were totaled. I was surprised to hear she walked out of it unscathed."

"Wait, pardon?" The news shocked him a little. An understanding soon came over him when he remembered Emmy's refusal to drive the other day. If she had been in an accident…. "Well I never heard about this."

"You haven't heard about a lot o' things then Layton. Miss Altava is one lucky lady. In more ways than one; you're the second man who's offered to pay for the scooter."

This was even more of a shocker. "Someone already paid for Emmy's scooter?"

"Yes, and he told me to tell her, 'a favour for a favour' and then -"

The hotel door rattled, and Emmy and Luke walked into the room. "I'm sorry," said Layton interrupting the man. "I'm going to have to call you back later."

While Luke went to the washroom to get ready for bed, Emmy approached Layton, a chocolate bar in her hand. "Who was that you were talking to?" she asked.

"The repair shop in London," he replied deciding that the truth was best. "The Laytonmobile needs an oil change when we return." This however, did not mean he could not omit details concerning a certain yellow scooter.

"Oh, I see. Always on the ball Professor," Emmy crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. He feared he hadn't fooled her.

"Have you decided on a dress yet?" he asked trying to make conversation and change the topic.

Emmy glanced at the dresses splayed on the bed. "Not yet… but I still haven't tried them on. That's a job for tomorrow though… Would you like any?" She offered him a bite of the half eaten chocolate bar.

Layton shook his head politely, "No thank you my dear, though it was kind of you to offer."

Luke came from the washroom, dressed in his sky blue pajamas, and hoped into bed. "Night Professor. Night Emmy," he yawned before hunkering down.

"I suppose that's our cue to get some sleep," said Emmy and she grabbed her pajamas. "And I'm taking the chair tonight Professor. You've had enough turns and it will be better on your back."

"Well thank you Emmy," he said. Layton had to admit that a bed would be nicer for his back. He could use a good night's rest for the excitement of tomorrow.

\-\-\

Emmy tossed and turned in the chair. She did not understand how the Professor managed to sleep in an upright position multiple nights in a row. It was most uncomfortable. To top things off the scabs covering her side from her scooter wreck were starting to itch. She'd woken up many times during the night, and any sleep she got had been light.

Emmy sighed. The Professor must be suspicious; he'd called a repair shop in London probably looking for the scooter with "transmission" failure. She supposed she should tell him the truth about her scooter, before he started digging around and uncovered _other_ things. Perhaps he would stop worrying about her if he thought her recent issues stemmed from the scooter accident…. _ And I can still avoid telling him about Warren Coates this way,_ she assured herself.

A small wave of relief washed over her. Satisfied with this plan, Emmy closed her eyes, thinking a decent sleep may be possible after all.

_Now, if only I could find a way to cover up this road rash while wearing a dress._ She was pumped to go to the Barthalul ball, which surprised her as she never thought anything Barthalul related would seem so inviting –although the exhibit had been pretty cool. But she would be going with the Professor…the Professor!

Her heart jumped in delight at the thought of the two of them together. _Well, it's only a friendly affair, besides he would never like me anymore than as a friend,_ she thought. Not that she really _liked_ him liked him…well…_ what does that even mean? _Emmy huffed and pulled up her sleeve, running her fingers down the healing scraps along her arm in an attempt to clear her thoughts.

Her eyes grew heavy and just as she was finally dozing off again, someone poked her shoulder.

She opened an eye and moaned. "What do you want Luke? It's so late and—"

Emmy stopped herself when she noticed the tears in his eyes. They dribbled down his cheeks and cast a shine on his face from the reflection of the city's lights. He snorted and wiped his nose on his shirt. The boy was a mess.

"I-I had a bad dream," he sniveled.

Emmy leaned forward. She felt badly for him, but Luke wasn't usually the type to come to her with this sort of problem, for fear of being teased. Not that Emmy would ever tease him for having nightmares. She just thought the Professor would be his preference for comfort.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Luke shook his sad little head. Emmy stood up, wrapped her arms around the boy, and pulled him into a hug. "You can tell me Luke. I won't be mean about it."

"I-I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he sobbed.

This statement puzzled Emmy. "I'm fine Luke, but this has obviously upset you." She wiped a stream of tears from his cheek with her thumb. "I understand you know. Nightmares are scary."

"H-how?" he said. "You aren't afraid of anything."

"That's not true..." Emmy could think of plenty of things that scared her…the mysterious letters she kept getting…particular people for that matter…but they weren't the sorts of subjects one discusses with a little boy when he himself is scared. "I'm afraid of spiders."

"You're grossed out by spiders. Th-they make you squeal sometimes, b-but you've gotten better around them a-and it's not the same…."

Emmy sighed, knowing very well that she had come a great way in her arachnophobia since working with the Professor –spiders were a common occurrence in the field of archeology. Although coming face to face with a live tarantula was still an unpleasant thought….

She handed Luke a tissue. "Please blow your nose, you're getting snot all over me. And I'm fairly certain that's something a true gentleman does not do."

Luke smiled faintly and accepted the tissue. She could feel the poor boy shaking against her. Emmy frowned. This wasn't going to be solved with a few light jokes.

She remembered being younger and having nightmares and wishing for someone to comfort her… _Now is not the time for such thoughts_, she told herself. _I must be here for Luke._

"How about I lie down with you and we can try to get some sleep," she said looking at the clock that now read 2:15am, which was just fantastic. Luke nodded and followed her to bed.

She lay down beside him and Luke turned around, snuggling against her. His body was warm, and so small next to hers. She felt him brush a finger along the scrapes on her arm. "I bet you weren't even afraid when you fell off the wall," he said.

It took Emmy a moment to remember the story she'd told Luke to explain her road rash. "Well…maybe a little bit." In truth, Emmy's accident on the scooter had happened so fast her brain had barely enough time to process it, let alone register fear.

"You're lying," he said. "You're always so brave and always jumping into situations." He sniffed. "Y-you're not afraid of anything Emmy… Not even dying."

"Is this what your nightmare's about?" Emmy asked with concern. "Oh, Luke…did you dream you died?" She felt his body shake harder. He was crying again. "Because it doesn't mean anything… It's only a dream."

"B-but it's n-not just a d-dream," he wailed. "Y-you do crazy th-things all the time! I've seen you ch-chase people up buildings, and b-beat up guys twice your size… and you never hesitate, not even when something is dangerous…."

"Sshh," Emmy stroked his head, and Luke leaned closer to her; his cries muffled in her shirt.

"P-promise y-you won't d-do anything stupid again Emmy!"

"Luke I…I don't understand what I have to do with any of this."

"Promise me Emmy!"

"Okay…okay, fine. I'll pinky swear if it makes you feel any better."

He looked up at her with watery eyes. Emmy had never seen him so upset before.

"I-I had a dream th-that you…" Luke choked up on a sob.

"It's okay Luke," Emmy kissed his forehead. "I'm not going anywhere."

The boy proceeded to cry some more, big heaving sobs that penetrated right through Emmy. It amazed her that the Professor had not woken up with all the noise. _I'm glad you're getting a good sleep, but I could really use your help right now, _she thought looking at his still form in the other bed.

She turned her attention back to Luke, stroking his hair, and whispering all the comforting things she could think of. And then he spoke up in a very muffled voice.

"Emmy…you _died_."

The boy continued to cry. Emmy was too shocked to react. All she could do was hold him.

\-\-\

_"Would you like another Hershel?"_

_ He opened his mouth and she popped a grape into it. "Why, thank you Claire." _

_They were back on the hill under the yew tree having a lovely picnic together. Nothing but green hills and winding dirt roads lay before them. The cotton clouds rolled lazily by in a true blue sky, and a light breeze moved the air. None could ask for a better day._

_ "Isn't rude to talk with your mouth open?" she teased._

_ "Yes… I suppose so."_

_ "I suppose I shall have to seal it then," she said and kissed him. He pulled himself closer into her passionate embrace. He could not get over how beautiful she was. It was all so heavenly, the warmth of her body, the tenderness of her lips…._

_ "I should go now," she said. "I'm already late."_

_ No. Not again. She couldn't leave._

_ "Claire don't," he grabbed her arm. "Please…never leave me again."_

_ "I'll be back," she said. "I'll only be gone a short while-"_

_ "No," he cried, knowing very well she would never return. _

_ It was happening again. He'd had this dream before. Because she was going to leave and the moment she was out of reach, the explosion would come, and the flames and dust would engulf her, and take her away forever. He'd watch her die. _

_ "Y-you can't," he stammered and kissed her again. _

_She quickly pulled away._

_ "And when have I ever listened to anyone Professor?" She leaned in for another and took a playful bite at his lip. It surprised him; this tender roughness was unlike Claire… And had she called him Professor?_

_ "Goodbye now," she said, letting his hand go and ran off. _

_ He was deeply puzzled. This woman was not Claire. There was an edge to her voice, and her movements were different...smoother, more fluid, like that of a dancer's. There was something about her…. He looked up as she jumped onto a scooter and rode away. Her wavy brown locks flowing in the wind beneath her helmet..._

_ "Wait!" he called and took off after her. But she was already so far. "Emmy come back!"_

_ He had to catch up to her. To save her. To tell her how he felt, how he—"_

_ His heart skipped a beat when the explosion went off in the distance. It rattled the air in the form of a dark cloud and barreled towards him. Its thunderous voice ripped through the fabrics of the dream, shredding the green hills and countryside before his very eyes. The force of it all knocked him off his feet and face first into the cold, unfeeling ground._

_ He could do nothing but watch in horror as the darkness spread, and swallowed the lady in yellow._

Layton woke up panting and covered in sweat.

It had happened again, the nightmare, the one of losing Claire. Only this time it wasn't Claire who died in the black explosion. No this time it was….

"Emmy!"

His heart nearly leaped out his chest when he realized the chair in the corner of the room sat empty. Where was she?! He leaped out of bed, and threw his top hat on. He was half way out the door when he heard a voice behind him.

"Professor, are you alright? I know you're an early riser and all but it's four o'clock in the morning… And why are you calling me?"

Layton sighed in relief and embarrassment as he turned to find his assistant safe and sound in Luke's bed. "Emmy what on earth are you doing there?"

"Luke had a nightmare, so I laid down with him so he could sleep."

Layton walked up to the bed. He could see the boy's sleeping form rise and fall against Emmy. She yawned in the dark.

"I take it you haven't gotten much sleep though," he remarked.

"Luke's found a very comfortable position on my chest," she whispered. "He's kind of squishing me, but it took him so long to settle down and I haven't the heart to wake him."

"Here, allow me," Layton flicked on the desk side lamp so he could see. Luke had indeed taken Emmy for a pillow and she looked most uncomfortable in her current position. He lifted the boy with the outmost care, apologizing profoundly to Emmy when his hand brushed over her breasts; Luke had found a prime spot to rest his head.

She laughed at his flustered face, and made comment that sidelined on adult.

Layton pretended not to hear it –although a small smile crept on his lips. He placed the boy in his own bed and tucked him in.

"So, why are you up so early? And more importantly why were you running out the door looking for me?" she asked.

Layton turned to his assistant and sighed, still a little red faced. She was sprawled on the bed looking as tired as he felt. "I had a dream... it woke me up, and as you weren't in the chair, I was…I was worried that something had happened to you."

Emmy frowned. "Not you too Professor."

"I'm afraid I don't follow, my dear."

"Luke's nightmare," she rolled over and stared at a spot on the ceiling. "He dreamt something bad happened…to me."

Layton swallowed. Had he and Luke both had dreams about Emmy? _They're just dreams Hershel,_ he assured himself. "He's probably just—"

He stopped mid thought when he noticed something on Emmy's side. When she'd rolled over her shirt had pulled up the slightest bit, revealing a nasty looking scrape along her abdomen. "Emmy, that's not from your tumble off the scooter is it?"

She turned to him in shock, pulling her shirt down to hide the scratches. "How… how do you know about that?"

_Oh bother._ Layton realized he'd gotten himself into a bit of a situation. "I may have asked about a yellow scooter when I called the repair shop…and learned that it was in there not for transmission failure, but wrecked from an accident."

"I should have known better…," Emmy sat up and put her hands over her face. "I knew you'd find out eventually, its just... I just didn't want you or Luke to worry."

He sat down beside her and lifted up her chin. "I wished you'd told us the truth. We both worried anyway." She still refused to meet his gaze. "You weren't hurt too badly I hope."

"No," she rolled up her shirt up a bit to show him the scratches. "Luckily, I didn't get skinned too deep. Unfortunately, I've got it all down my right side, from my elbow to my ankle, but its healing fast." She flashed him a smile. "Besides, I've been through worse."

Somehow that last thought wasn't exactly comforting to Layton. She said she was fine, but the road rash looked painful, and he dared not think about something worse befalling Emmy.

"How did it happen?" he asked, gently brushing the scabs along her arm. Admittedly, Emmy was not the safest driver out there –she'd cut in front of him the day they met, and he'd nearly run her over- but he'd seen the way she could expertly maneuver around traffic.

She sat silent for the longest time. "When I was driving to my parents', it was rainy really hard, and I…I just lost control." She twiddled her thumbs. "I was upset at the time, and not thinking straight."

"Well, I am always here for you my dear. To talk about upsetting things if need be." Come to think of it, she had sounded a little distressed when she'd called him early the other week and asked for the time off. If he had noticed then, could he have prevented this?

"Thank you Professor," she said, taking his hand and placing it on her lap. She played nervously with his fingers, unknowingly of course, but it made Layton blush a little. "But I'm afraid this issue is…very personal in nature."

Layton nodded. "I respect your privacy, but Emmy, please do take these words into consideration: one can only keep everything bottled up for so long, for the bottle eventually overflows." He felt a twinge of guilt at this statement. He himself was not a follower of his own advice…_Claire_.

"I know Professor…it's just…" she sighed and slumped her head so it rested on his shoulder. "…It's hard to think about."

Layton wasn't sure if she had meant to get in such close proximity to him, or she was just exhausted and did not care. Either way, he didn't mind being used as a headrest.

"There is one thing I forgot to mention," he said recalling his phone call. "When I talked to the mechanic he said someone had paid for the scooter's repairs and left a message: 'a favour for a favour'." He looked at her with concern. "Do you have any idea what that means?"

"No," Emmy replied, sitting up with a very straight face. "Perhaps it's just someone doing a good deed. Good people do exist in the world if you can believe it."

There, she was at it again. Layton knew she was lying, trying to keep him from this 'personal secret' of hers. From the vibe she gave off, he knew she was troubled by this.

"I do not deny that people are capable of random acts of kindness, but it is very strange. Especially after the letter –"

"I told you that was a student prank," she said a tad too defensively. "Just a stupid student prank…."

She let go of his hand and went back to playing with her own fingers, refusing to meet his eyes. They sat there in a few moments of strained silence, Emmy nervously occupying herself and Layton wondering if he'd gone too far.

"I think we best try to take advantage of what's left of the night to sleep," Emmy slid off the bed, "with the Barthalul ball tomorrow and the case."

"Yes," Layton said and lay in the bed, thankful she'd taken the initiative to speak up. He waited for Emmy to get settled in the chair before turning off the light. "Goodnight my dear."

"Night Professor," she said. "And if you have another nightmare don't be afraid to wake me. I've got experience in comforting those with bad dreams."

"I'm sure you do, my dear," he chuckled half-heartedly, knowing he would not sleep well the rest of the night.

_'A favour for a favour'_, he sighed. _Young lady, I fear to think what you've gotten yourself into._

\-\-\

Emmy sat awake in the dark. The lights of Monte d'Or were not helping in her vain attempts to sleep. She wished she could take a sledge hammer to them all. _Wouldn't that be nice? To take a hammer to all my problems, like a game of whack-a-mole…_

It broke her heart that she'd lied to the Professor… again. The scooter wreck was finally off her chest, but now Layton knew of her 'personal issue's' existence, and it wouldn't take long for him to pry more.

And he was still suspicious of the letter. _Stupid letter_. She still had it tucked away in her pajama pocket, always on her. _I should probably shred it, or burn it,… or tear it into so many pieces that not even the puzzle master himself can solve it!_

She was fairly certain whoever paid for her scooter was also the sender of the letter. But Emmy wasn't going to be bought over like that. _You can keep the scooter for all I care. Whoever you are…._

Emmy almost felt like crying again. Almost. But she had to be strong. If she cried she would feel weak. She would _be_ weak. And if she showed _him_ how pathetic she really was….

"What would you think of me then?" she whispered to the lump in the bed. He was a gentleman, always kind, and even if he was annoying prying into her personal business, it was only because she was his assistant, and he was worried about her.

_But look at me_, she thought. _I will never be a proper lady, and if I am at the very least not a strong lady…then what am I? Especially compared to you…._

She sighed. How was she supposed to spend an entire evening with him without more questions coming out? She could always say she changed her mind. _But that's chickening out. Besides I invited him! It would be rude to back down for something so trivial._ And in all truth, it would be a shame to pass up the opportunity to dance with the Professor….

Emmy closed her eyes and lay sideways in the chair. She wanted to sleep so the morning would come. So she could get the day over with, and perhaps enjoy the ball. But a small part of her was tentative to sleep, because if she went to sleep she could dream.

Layton hadn't confirmed anything, but from the way he thrashed about he had had a nightmare. And she'd thought it was another one about his mysterious Claire, but he'd shouted _her_ name in panic….

A terrible thing had happened in his dream. She was sure of it. Just like Luke's dream. _But they're only dreams_, she told herself._ They don't mean anything._

Something the Professor once told her crossed her mind. Something about there being no random thoughts, and that everything you think is for a reason….

_'Emmy…you died.'_

She could still hear Luke's trembling voice. Why had this thought even graced his subconscious?

Emmy did not know.

And she did not want to think about it.


	9. Dance like a Gentleman

**Author's Note:** This is getting posted a day early because I'm away for the next week. So here it is, the eagerly awaited Barthalul ball!

* * *

Chapter 9: Dance like a Gentleman

"It's no use Angela. None of your dresses are ever going to look good on me. Not with my body a wreck."

"Nonsense, you look gorgeous," the blonde walked up to her and straightened out the dress. "And you've got an amazing figure Emmy. I'm jealous…there." Angela backed away and smiled.

Emmy walked up to the mirror, still a little shaky in the high heels, and stared at the stranger before her. She was wearing a red, off the shoulder, slant cut dress, one that did a good job of covering up most of her scrapes. Her hair was done up, and Emmy found it strange having it all off her face, as she always wore it down. She also had makeup on, only a bit, but enough to make her features pop. One had to admire Angela's handy work.

"The scratches aren't really that noticeable," Angela assured. She herself was wearing a pretty light blue dress with a princess waist. "It's not rubbing though?"

"It's fine," said Emmy. The road rash didn't hurt anymore, and the dress wasn't fitting too tight. She smiled. "It's perfect actually."

She turned around to better see herself. Emmy didn't get dressed up too often –well, not ever-, and she had to admit, getting all prettied up and lady-like was kind of fun. She wondered what the Professor would think….

"You're sure you're all right?" asked Angela. "Hershel told me about the accident. We can talk if you want….When Randall was younger there was this one time he thought it would be a good idea to—"

"Thank you for the support Angela, but I'd really rather just move on and enjoy tonight."

"Alright," she said, and glanced at the clock. "I wonder where those two are? It's nearly six and the dance starts in half an hour."

\-\-\

"Randall, I believe we're running late."

The red-head turned to his friend in surprise. "Nonsense Hersh! Do you know how long it takes women to get ready? There was this one time I showed up to pick up Angela an hour late for this party, and she was still doing her hair… An hour Hershel! I couldn't believe it."

As far as Layton was concerned Emmy never took a ridiculously long time to get ready in the morning, but maybe social events were different. It had taken he and Randall under ten minutes to find a suit –which Randall described as snazzy on him- so they decided to go for a walk to pass the time.

He and Emmy had arrived at the Ascots in the late afternoon, after much discussion with Luke about the case. They figured they hadn't stumbled on anything yet, and decided to wait until Henry brought more information on Warren Coates.

Layton had tried to console the boy about his nightmare last night, but Luke had been strangely silent about it, and hadn't left Emmy's side all morning. If what she'd said was true….

"Hersh, you're not still worrying about Luke are you?" said Randall. "We all have bad dreams as kids. He'll get over it."

"Well, yes, but Emmy tells me he was terribly upset."

"We all got terribly upset. I remember when Henry and I were boys he woke up balling frequently and came to my room so my father wouldn't hear him. Poor kid…."

"Luke wasn't the only one who had a bad dream."

Randall stopped in his tracks and turned to Layton. A finger rested on his chin, deep in thought. "Maybe it was Barthalul's curse."

"Don't be ridiculous Randall. The curse is factually indiscreet."

"Well you and Luke both had nightmares after being around the artifacts. And you can't forget the crew at the dig site…."

"That's true," said Layton. "However, you and Henry have been in the presence of the museum artifact for weeks. And Emmy was exposed to this 'curse' just as much as Luke and I, and she has yet to experience a bad dream."

"She has yet to tell you about a bad dream," Randall pointed out. "Not that I'm implying she would keep a detail that could be connected to the case, but women like Em, they're all 'let's share our feelings and such', but when you get into the deep soul crunching stuff they become as emotionally challenged as men. Only they're much better at distracting from the fact."

Layton was still trying to process what his friend had meant by 'women like Emmy', and all the other things about feelings. Emmy wasn't emotionally challenged was she? He knew she'd been upset these past few days, and she did a good job of keeping it to herself, but she'd shared a few things with him, and not once had she seemed at the point of breaking down.

"And how on earth did you become an expert on women?"

"Oh, my dear friend," Randall stuck an elbow on Layton's shoulder and leaned into his ear. "I'm a married man. You don't survive the first few weeks without picking up a thing or two about our lovely, yet overly complicated counterparts."

Layton sighed. _Well at least I know who to call the next time I need advice on ladies._

Still, even if Emmy had had a nightmare, it couldn't have been a very bad one. Before he'd brought up her scooter, she hadn't appeared distressed. She was so concerned about Luke when he'd talked to her at the very early hour. And she seemed more worried about his nightmare than anything else….

"I suppose it was the subject of our nightmares that worries me." Layton looked at Randall as seriously as he could, hoping to get some decent console. "No one would tell me what Luke dreamt exactly, but Emmy mentioned it was about her…and I…I dreamt about her too." His stomach twisted a little, recalling the nightmare.

Randall sighed. "When I was missing for all those years with no idea who I was, I had a lot of dreams about the most terrible things. But you know what Hersh? They were only dreams." He smiled sadly.

"I dreamt I lost her."

The melancholy smile disappeared on Randall's face. He went oddly silent and led Layton down a corner abruptly. They stopped in front of a café.

"What you need is a cup of tea. To wash away all this worry."

"Randall, we're already running late—"

"Our ladies won't mind. Besides this might be your last chance for a cup. They have nothing but punch and liquor at these parties."

Feeling it would only waste more time to argue with Randall, Layton agreed. And since when did he ever pass up tea?

"And don't worry about that nightmare," said Randall, smiling to himself as he walked in. "I came back after being lost for eighteen years. And Em, well…she's a lot more stubborn than I ever was. It wouldn't take her long to find her way home."

Layton attempted a small smile and brushed his hand over his heart. The exact spot he kept Claire's photograph.

_Oh Randall, _he thought. _There are some places that are just too far to return from._

\-\-\

"Where are they?"

Angela paced back and forth in the living room, glancing outside from time to time for any sign of Layton or Randall. The woman was near the point of a mental breakdown. Seven o'clock had come and gone –the dance was well on its way by now- and they'd received no sign of the two men.

"I do hope nothing bad has happened...Emmy you don't think that someon—"

"Relax Angela, I'm sure they're fine. Probably just got caught up in a puzzle they found in the street."

From Emmy's experience Layton did not have the best time management skills as even the most mundane things reminded him of a puzzle. The world provided ample distractions for the man. _It's no wonder his office space is always a disaster_. _And how it takes him so long to mark papers…._

"Yes, but for over an hour? They know we have somewhere to go." Angela took another peak out the window and sighed.

Emmy had to admit she was a little baffled as to why they were taking so long, but Angela was overreacting. Understandably so as the last time Layton and Randall ran off together, one of them hadn't returned.

She walked up to Angela and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Why don't you sit down. You're going to waste all your energy worrying and you'll be too tired to dance when they get here." Emmy led her to the sofa. "And if they're not back in the next fifteen minutes, I'll call Henry and we can go looking for them."

Angela nodded and took a seat. She continued to tap her foot anxiously awaiting her husband's return.

_It must be horrible, to constantly worry about losing him again, _thought Emmy. If someone she loved ever returned from an untimely fate, she figured she'd never want them out of her sight again either…._maybe.__  
_

But the thought of something bad happening to the Professor was worrisome. More worrisome than the dreams he and Luke had had about her. If the Professor was ever harmed, Emmy didn't know what she would do.

"You're right Emmy, I'm driving myself mad. They're probably going to walk through the door any sec—"

The front door flew open and a very apologetic Randall and Layton came through. "So sorry," said Randall. "We lost track of time."

Angela jumped from her seat and ran, greeting him in a huge embrace. "Randall Ascot, haven't you the decency to call me at the very least?" She glared at him with worry. "And why do you smell like blueberry tea?"

Randall laughed nervously, "Hersh and I may have taken a little pit stop…and I may have spilled blueberry tea on my pants."

Angela sighed, "Let's get you changed then", and she pulled Randall upstairs, who was probably in for a very long lecture on the role of the telephone and keeping his wife informed.

"It took the two of you long enough," Emmy stood up and approached the Professor. "And a tea break, really? I thought a gentleman was always on time."

"Well yes," Layton stuttered, "but we were…."

He found himself dumbstruck by the sight before him. "Emmy you're wearing a dress." And high heeled shoes. And her hair was all done up. And…was that makeup?

"How observant of you Professor," she said, and did a little spin. "So, how do I look?"

_She's breathtaking._ It was the first thing that popped into his head. He had always known Emmy was pretty, but really thought of it no further. She was his assistant after all. He'd seen her in a dress before –like the last time they were in Monte d'Or, in that little boutique- but there was something about this one…the way it complimented her frame yet didn't hide the few faint scars along her leg, and it just made her seem more… like Emmy. Like you could tell she was an adventurer at heart. And she could easily chase down a group of thugs without much hindrance. And with that lovely smile of hers, he felt as if he saw her in a different light.

"You look stunning my dear," he managed to choke it out, while keeping his composure.

"You're rather handsome yourself." She reached up and adjusted his top hat. "I wish I'd brought my camera, so we could show Luke later. I don't think he'd recognize me."

"Nonsense my dear, you still look like you."

Emmy laughed, "Trust me, I don't feel like me."

"Perhaps it's the lack of yellow?"

"Well, it is my favourite colour, but I'm thinking it's the heels that really get me. I don't know how all those women in spy movies fight bad guys with these."

Layton smiled, "Unlike you, they don't know the advantages to proper footwear…."

"Alright, let's hurry off and catch the tram to the Reunion Inn," said Angela as she scurried down the stairs with Randall in pursuit, effectively interrupting the conversation.

Layton offered Emmy an arm at the doorway. She accepted it kindly, "So I don't trip in my high heels of death?"

"It is the proper thing to do," he replied. "Help a lady in need. Even if the danger is her shoes."

A blush spread across Emmy's face, and they hurried off after an excited Angela who feared to miss the whole dance.

It was officially a quarter to eight by the time they walked out the door.

\-\-\

The Reunion Inn was bustling with people in fancy attire. It looked even grander than the last time Layton had been in Monte d'Or, with all the lights and decorations in the courtyard for the festivities. A banner hung from its gates, advertising the Barthalul ball. Two men from the Monte d'Or police force stood as bouncers at the entrance.

"ID," the officer on the left stuck his hand out only for it to be slapped out of the way by his partner.

"You fool, this is Randall and Angela Ascot, the owners of the property," he turned to Randall. "So sorry Mr. Ascot, he's new, please come on in."

"Thank you sir," Randall nodded at the policemen and, arm around Angela, walked into the Reunion Inn.

Layton was about to follow him when a hand shot out and stopped him.

"I need some ID—"

"Did they tell you nothing!?" the second officer screeched. "Professor Hershel Layton is not only a good friend of the Ascots, but the man who saved Monte d'Or from the Mask Gentleman just months ago. We'd be out of a job and a city if it weren't for this man."

The poor newbie officer flushed, "Again so sorry. It's my first week… Mr. Layton please come on in, you and your lovely wife."

Before a flustered Layton had a chance to speak, Emmy quickly cleared things up. "Oh, no I'm not the Professor's wife," she showed her ringless fingers, "I'm his assistant."

"Oh dear…so sorry."

Layton and Emmy squeezed past the policemen as the senior officer grumbled something about being stuck with an incompetent buffoon for this night of busy work.

Passing through the hotel's lobby –where refreshments were located- Layton and Emmy entered the Grand Hall. It was a huge space, with posters advertising the opening exhibit and a live band sat at the back wall, filling the atmosphere with wonderful music.

Emmy looked awestruck, her mouth falling open to take it all in. "This is incredibly fancy. I-I feel as if…I'm not underdressed am I?"

"Nonsense Em, you look amazing," Randall and Angela appeared from behind. "They've got a nice little set up for Barthalul by the door Hersh. It's the exhibit's grand opening and all tomorrow. We should check it out."

"Not until after I've had a dance or two," said Angela and she pulled him into the mass of couples, where the two were quickly swallowed up.

Layton felt his throat clench up a little. _My, this is quite the crowd._

"Come on Professor," Emmy took his hand. "We're missing all the fun."

"Now, Emmy… I don't know…there are so many people."

"You're not nervous now, are you? Don't tell me the Great Professor Hershel Layton doesn't have experience dancing with a woman?" she spun around to face him. "Don't be shy. Just put your arm around me. I don't bite Professor."

He placed a tentative arm around her waist and clasped her hand in his other. "I know." _But she can topple a man thrice her size with a roundhouse kick,_ he thought. "It's just…I'm afraid I'm a little rusty. I haven't danced in a very long time."

_In fact the last time was with Claire_….

Emmy smiled, squeezing his hand and resting her other one on his shoulder. She had rather dainty looking hands, and it was the first time the Professor had noticed this. Of course they were far from it in a fistfight, evident by the faint scars along her fingers. "You're being silly, just relax and…and dance like a gentleman would."

Following her lead Layton tried his best not to step on her feet. Emmy seemed built to dance; she moved across the floor with such elegance and grace - even with the high heels that she claimed to have inexperience in- and he stumbled into her more than once.

_Hershel, you're such the klutz, _he scolded himself.

"You're too tense," she said. "Think of it like fencing. Only instead of moving to your opponent's blows, you're moving to the music's beat."

Taking her advice into mind, Layton went back to the days he and Randall used to fence after school. He found his feet gliding easily over the floor, moving as Emmy said, to the music. He smiled, a small bit of pride swelling in his chest as he was now in stride with her.

"See, you can too dance."

"Well, not as well as you."

"Always the modest man you are."

Emmy grinned from ear to ear as they flew across the dance floor like a perfectly synchronized machine. And Layton wasn't being modest, she was the better dancer of the two.

_It's no wonder. She's a skilled fighter and the types of movements are similar._ He flashed back to the first time he'd seen Emmy take down a group of thugs in Misthallery. It had surprised him that she was such an advanced martial artist, but the way she had so easily dispatched the bad guys, the way she'd moved, was a dance all in its own.

And for a wonderful couple of minutes, he found his ever busy mind entranced by nothing, but thoughts of her.

\-\-\

"Earth to Professor Layton." Emmy waved a hand in his face. "The song's ended."

"Oh," he realized that although the music had changed to something far too upbeat to waltz to, he was still holding her. "So sorry, my dear."

"Don't be," said Emmy. For a moment both of them stood there, still not letting go of one another, while everyone else hopped about to the much faster beat. "I wish it hadn't though...ended I mean."

"I as well," said Layton dropping his hands to his sides and glanced around, spotting Randall just outside at the refreshment table. "If you don't mind, I'm going to see what Randall is up to."

"Go ahead, I'll be here." Emmy smiled and ran to join a group on the dance floor.

Layton made his way to Randall with a noticeable pep in his step. His friend waved to him, a biscuit in one hand and a drink in the other.

"So how are your dancing shoes Hersh?"

"Much better than I recalled, but I have Emmy to thank for it." He watched her and Angela dance about with other single ladies whose dates had also grown tired, and did not wish to express themselves with such animated movements.

Randall sighed, "I don't know how they keep going." He took a swig of his drink. "Do you want one?"

"Oh, no thank you," Layton replied. He wasn't one for liquor or punch, and as Randall said before, there was no tea at the ball. "Why don't we check out the Barthalul station?"

The small area dedicated to Barthalul held a sign with information about the exhibit opening the following morning, and another picture of Warren Coates.

"That's strange," said Randall, "I'm sure Henry organized for some of the dig site's crew to hang around the station and answer any questions."

"Hmm," Layton placed a finger under his chin. His thoughts were interrupted however, by the approach of a man in a white suit with sunglasses.

"You two Barthalul fans or hiding from your dates?" he said in a rather gruff voice.

"The former," Randall replied, eyeing the newcomer suspiciously. "Our ladies are going solo for a song."

The man looked up at Layton and followed his gaze across the room to where Emmy and Angela danced. Layton found it rather odd that he would wear sunglasses, and something stirred inside him with the way the man was looking at the ladies….

"She's pretty your brunette," he said with a smirk.

This took Layton by surprise. "Who's to say she's mine?"

"I saw the two of you come in together late with your friend here and the blonde. And you haven't stopped staring at her ever since. You have been taken badly my friend. Alas, such is the game of love, my favourite of all the world's games, one that combines both the mind and heart."

He sighed, "So tell me boys, you lot have two fine women and you're wasting your time looking at dusty rocks. You're as bad as old Coates," he tapped the gray-haired man's poster with his foot.

"You knew Warren Coates?" asked Layton intrigued, pulling his eyes off Emmy momentarily.

"Yeah, the bastard," he laughed. "but he spent his nights with a polished stone or two, if you know what I mean. Man had many problems. I shouldn't speak ill of the dead, he inspired this whole Barthalul fad in town, so this is his ball in a way. Even if I paid for it..."

"Alright," Randall grabbed Layton's arm. "I think we best get going." He dragged his friend away.

"Appreciate that woman of yours Top Hat," the man in the white suit called, enunciating the 't' and 'h' before Randall pulled Layton into the crowd.

"Why the rush Randall?" asked Layton knowing something was amiss.

"That," said Randall, "is Isaac Nando. He runs Monte d'Or's mob and is a very powerful and err... interesting man."

"Yes, Henry mentioned Nando. He said he could have information on Warren Coates, and the Barthalul artifacts." Layton looked back at the man in white who was still watching Emmy and Angela. "He could know something vital to the case."

"I'd be careful what you bargain with him. He's the kind of guy you likes to know exactly what makes you tick, so he can play you," said Randall. "Everything is a game to him, and we you don't want to become a pawn. Besides, you have Luke and Em's safety to think about too."

Randall's point was valid. Layton would hate to put Emmy or Luke into any sort of danger. _I shall only have a talk with if absolutely necessary._

"And I don't like how he's looking at our ladies." Randall balled up his fists.

"Take Angela, and don't let her out of your sight," said Layton. "I have a bad feeling about this…."

\-\-\

"Angela look the boys are back." Emmy put her hands on her hips. "That was the longest snack break I ever experienced."

"Hey, at least we came back," Randall smirked and took Angela's hands. "Now where to my lady?"

"I'm still in the spirits to dance," Angela replied and pecked him on the lips. With that, the two were off again.

Layton walked up to Emmy and cleared his throat. "I was hoping we could take this to a more private place."

Emmy responded with a look of utter shock. "My, my Professor, moving a little quickly here aren't we?"

_Oh no, not like that_, Layton felt his cheeks grow hot. "I meant…I need to talk to you…um somewhere less crowded."

She chuckled, "Yes, of course I know what you _mean_ Professor, you're just fun to tease." Emmy took his hand and pulled him across the room. "We might be able to sneak into the conservatory, there's next to no security around here."

"Well, alright." As much as Layton hated to admit it, snooping was something he did frequently when solving mysteries…this was no different was it?

While weaving through the hotel's halls they passed a few doors, maids and bellboys, with the latter two giving the pair some knowing looks that tempted Layton to stop and explain that it "wasn't what it looked like". Emmy had only laughed and pulled him along saying, "Oh Professor, who cares? Leave them be with their dirty little minds".

The two finally made their way to the hotel's conservatory. The air was humid, and filled with the fresh scent of tropical plants, that would never survive in Monte d'Or's desert climate. Faint music seeped through the walls and with the glow of the moon shining down through the glass ceiling, the atmosphere had a lovely warm feel to it.

"So, what is it you want to tell me?" asked Emmy as she propped herself against a tree. "It is something concerning the case?"

"Well, yes… and no…Randall and I were just concerned. There was a man watching you and Angela."

She chuckled, flicking a loose strand of hair back as she approached him. "No need to get all jealous now Professor! Angela loves Randall, and no one's stealing me for an assistant."

"I know…I just worry."

"Jeez, you're worse than most women," Emmy took his hands and swung them in a playful manner. "And I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"I know my dear…" He could not deny that anyone giving Emmy trouble would soon regret it in a close quarter fight. But for him it was still a concept to wrap his head around. Women were strong independent beings –just as much as men- however, as a proper English gentleman Layton had always valued a lady's safety above all else. And every woman he'd ever encountered appreciated this…with one exception.

Emmy. She challenged his rule from the first day they met, showing a certain spunk and edge that refused to be held back by anyone. She'd rush off into situations without thinking twice, and even when he warned her of danger –like the time they were hunting the Specter in Misthallery's streets- she refused to back down.

Emmy was the exception to his thinking, and he appreciated her for it, but sometimes he felt himself at a loss of how to handle someone with such a stubborn streak.

"…I just think we could all use a little help once in a while."

"You're one to talk Mr. Hershel 'Always the Gentleman' Layton." She leaned closer to him, and he felt her breath brush his chin. It sent a wonderful tingly sensation over him.

"Just promise me you'll be careful," he placed his hands sternly on her shoulders.

She smiled sweetly, "You worry way too much Professor."

"I can't help it."

She stepped forward and threw her arms around him, nestling her head onto his shoulder. Layton stepped back, a little surprised by the hug. "I wish you wouldn't," she whispered. "I'm fine."

He wondered if she could hear his heart leaping in his chest. If she realized how sweaty his palms were. If she noticed his unsteady breath. And If she at all felt the same way….

After a short pause, Emmy pulled back and turned to the door. "We should get back to the party, before we miss it all."

How amazing she looked in that dress. How amazing was her smile. Her laugh…_Stop it Hershel_, he scolded himself,_ she's your assistant, she's…._

_ Amazing._ And in that moment he realized how much he truly admired her for all she was.

"You know you're right," he cleared his throat and adjusted his top hat "…even a gentleman could use a little help from time to time."

She spun around and raised her head. "How so?"

Layton didn't know what possessed him to do what he did next. It didn't feel like he was in control of himself, as if something deep inside took over and he was merely a bystander, watching it unfold from the sidelines, like a dream of sorts.

Only this was better than any old dream, because she felt sturdy in his gentle grasp, unlike the memories that only ever slipped away, and her lips were warm to the touch, sending shivers of joy through him, and even better was the moment she kissed him back, ever so gently, in an almost timid manner, as if she wasn't sure what was happening, but it was splendid nonetheless.

His heart fluttered. Something wonderful blossomed inside him, something he hadn't felt in a very long time….

She leaned into him, throwing his top hat away and running her fingers through his hair, now very sure of the situation at hand. A moan escaped both of their lips and they fell back into a bed of flowers. She landed on top of him, and giggled before rolling to his side. A mischievous grin crept onto her face. She met him with another kiss, her fingers brushing over his jawbone.

His heart beat like rapid-fire. He held her shoulders, feeling the rough patch of skin on her upper arm, the healing road rash, barely hidden by the dress' strap.

"Hershel…," she breathed and pressed her lips to his neck, sending feelings of joy through him.

Smiling, he tucked a loose strand of curly brown hair behind her ear, and kissed her temple, feeling her excited pulse as she reached down and fumbled with his belt buckle. The smallest of tears rolled down his cheek.

"Oh, Claire."

* * *

**Another Author's Note:** If you weren't expecting that whole last scene, good! Neither were Emmy and Layton. If you were, than you are just smarter than the rest of us.

And if you are going to leave a review (in which case thank you, you are awesome) I would kindly ask if you refrain from mentioning the final sentence, for the sake of anyone who might read reviews before diving into the chapter. It would be a shame to spoil that little twist.


	10. Aftermath

Chapter 10: Aftermath

"Oh, Claire."

Those two words plunged into Emmy like a dagger, shattering her from the inside. A deep pain burrowed into her gut, and spread through her, as she tried to make sense of the Professor's words. The moment went from something so brilliant she couldn't find the words to describe it, to something from a really bad dream. Only this wasn't a dream.

This was reality, and she wouldn't wake up.

She pushed herself away from the Professor, who returned her look of bewilderment, mixed with shame.

"Who's Claire?"

"E-Emmy I—"

"Who is she?" Emmy stood up and felt her voice clench. The onslaught of feelings were overwhelming; her thoughts went into overdrive. One minute they were dancing. Then talking. He was worried about her. She gave him a hug. Her heart raced and she had butterflies. Then he…_kissed me!_

And that moment had been heaven; when he'd pressed his lips to hers, she was in shock that someone as prudent and stoic as Professor Layton had done something so...so out of the blue. She had been nervous to kiss him back, unsure if it was really happening, if it was a joke –which would be even more out of character for him.

But it had been real and wonderful, and emotion and passion had taken over from there, driving the moment forward…

And now it was still very real, with all the wonder removed. She just wanted to get out of there. Get far, far away….

"Professor, … who is she?"

"She's…," the words caught in the Professor's throat. He was struggling, struggling to say anything to her. "N-nothing, I didn't mean to..." He sat up and dipped his head, trying to in a very flustered manner to re-buckle his belt. He refused to look her in the eye.

Emmy's beating heart grew erratic. She could barely breathe. Never had she seen him at such a loss. And this lack of an explanation dug into her deeper than anything else. In that moment it felt as if the last thread holding her life together snapped. The very thread she thought untouchable….

"I-I'm going to get a drink." She surprised herself with the ability to get the words out.

And with that Emmy left the conservatory.

\-\-\

Emmy wandered through the hotel's halls for the longest time trying to clear her head –she may also have gotten a little turned around and taken one or five wrong turns.

She willed herself not to cry, because she was wearing mascara and it would be all too horrifying to walk through the party with makeup running down her chin. But her feelings were so jumbled at the moment, she didn't know if she could even muster tears, or if she was sad or angry or what. She just felt lost.

She soon found herself at the refreshment table, the side by the bar to be exact. The area was a crowded one, mostly men trying to escape their dates, all more than happy for free drinks. Emmy downed her shot –which she found to be horrible diluted—, and pushed the glace towards the bartender.

"I'll take another," she said and slumped in the chair.

Why had the Professor refused to say anything about Claire? She obviously meant something to the man. He kept her photo in his sock drawer. He dreamed about her. _He said her bloody name while we were about to…._

Emmy threw back the second shot. "Dammit," she muttered. Why did he have to kiss her? Why did she let him? And worst of all, why didn't she just leave it at that?

Admittedly she'd thought about the Professor in _that_ way before. Mainly in the first few weeks of her becoming his assistant as she was still in the awestruck fan-girl stage to be working with someone like him. She supposed she flirted from time to time in her teasing; that was just Emmy's nature, she'd always been a tease. And dancing had been so magical. And the kiss too good for words. But never in a thousand years did she think he would….

Emmy groaned and nodded to the man behind the counter to refill her glace. This night was a disaster. How was she going to approach him after this? How were they ever going to find the thief, and figure out the strange dreams without everything being awkward between them? And even after that…how were things going to go back to normal?

_Don't be stupid_, Emmy told herself. _Nothing will ever be normal with him again._

Would she have to leave her job as his assistant? Surely she couldn't remain in the position if there was conflict with her boss. What would she do without the Professor...and Luke for that matter? They were like family to her. She couldn't lose them too.

And just when Emmy thought it couldn't get any worse, a familiar voice reached her ears.

"Well, you clean up nicely Altava."

Emmy spun around to find herself face with Audrey Mildrew. She was in a simple black dress, but looked very sharp nonetheless. Emmy glared at her. _Seriously? What great power have I pissed off to deserve this?_

"Mildrew, I thought you weren't coming," she turned around, and put on the most bored voice she could, silently cursing every deity she could think of.

The blonde smiled and took the seat beside her. "A single lady can have her fun. Besides, this is the Barthalul ball, and I am the leader of the expedition. It's only right of me to show up…. Speaking of which, how are you enjoying Hershel?"

"He's wonderful," Emmy took another drink and slammed the glace on the counter. _Just perfect, I needed bloody salt rubbed in the wound. _"He's getting some air at the moment, but he's wonderful… Top me off please!"

"I didn't take you for the heavy drinker," Mildrew propped an elbow on the counter and waved down a bartender to fetch her a drink.

"I didn't take you for the minor chit-chat type."

"I'd watch it. You've downed three…make that four, shots in under ten minutes."

"Why do you care? They're watered down," Emmy grumbled, pushing away her emptied shot glace. "You'll need to drink a hell of a lot to feel anything."

Mildrew threw back her own shot and made a face. "Ech! No wonder the booze is free. It's slightly alcohol flavoured water. Just enough to keep guests happy I suppose, and the bartenders don't even have to watch who they cut off –no one's ever going to get a buzz off this."

"Are you going to criticize or indulge?"

"In what? This is cheap if you ask me. How are you drinking it?"

Emmy shrugged and twirled the glace in her hands. She wanted Mildrew to go away so badly, so she could sulk in peace, but couldn't think of any excuse. Not that she really needed one….

"Maybe it's just in _your _blood." Mildrew shot her a snide smile.

Emmy shot up and glared at the woman, a little taken aback. A burning sensation rose in her chest, and it wasn't the small amount of alcohol she'd consumed. "I don't know who you think you are Audrey Mildrew. But will you just lay off me, so my boss and I can solve this bloody case for you!"

Mildrew stood and sized her up. "Oh, that struck a chord did it? Well, I know very well who I am Altava, the question is who are you?"

From the corner of her eye Emmy saw that their yelling had attracted quite a crowd. All eyes were drawn on the two women circling each other. She hoped Randall and Angela were still on the dance floor away from it all, to spare them from whatever Emmy feared would come next. _Just try not to make too big of a scene_, she told herself.

"Do you know how desperate Mr. Coates was for the Barthalul artifacts? The lengths he was willing go to get them from me?"

"I'd watch my tongue if I were you." _Dammit why'd she have to bring him up again?_ Emmy hadn't the patience to deal with this at the moment.

"But of course you know of the things he did. You knew very well what kind of a man Warren Coates was."

"Mildrew, I get that you're jealous but this isn't the time or the pla—"

"Jealous? You think I'm jealous? What, of you and Professor Layton? Now why would I ever have such a thought? If he knew, what would he think of you? Certainly not as a strong confident young lady," she took a step forward. "I _know_, and when I look at you I can't help but see a cowering little girl. And that's all you really are on the inside Altava, a coward."

"Shut it!" Emmy balled her fists, "I don't know what you think you know, or how you know it, but do not drag the Professor into it."

"Oh, Altava. You got Coates drunk enough and he'd tell you anything. Said an awful lot about you. He missed you so very much. Wanted more than anything to see his little Emmy…."

"I'm warning you Mildrew."

"He never did say much about his wife. I think he told me once that her name was Mei, pretty name. Most I ever heard was when he told me what happened the night she died. Talked about that night quite a bit actually, but only once he was completely wasted. I only ever picked up bits and pieces of it from his slurs, and from what I understand…it really was all your fault. If you had kept your mouth shut about the little bedroom fling she'd still be alive…."

Emmy found herself tongue tied. Because Mildrew was right. All her life Emmy had known this, but she never thought about it ever, how guilty she was for the Coates' tragedy, that if she had just been quiet about it all, then things might have turned out better….

"But you just had to tell her didn't you? It was too much, knowing what a lying, cheating, good-for-nothing creep he was. That your—"

"Shut up!"

"You need to hear it Altava! Oh, what, are you going to run away again? Like a little wuss…."

Emmy glared at Mildrew, trying her best not to look hurt, but knowing that the blonde had won.

"… you were his world Emmy, and you ran away. I can't wrap my mind around the fact that even after all the pain, even after you broke his heart… he still _loved _you to his very last breath."

Mildrew's head flew back with a sickening blow that sent the woman to the floor. She hit the floor, knocked out cold, a stream of blood gushing from her nose. A few worried onlookers rushed to her side. The rest turned to stare at Emmy in wonder.

Emmy pulled back her shaking fist. "The man knew nothing about love…" she whispered.

Her body felt too hot, her heart too fast, her breathing too light. All the faces blurred together, and arguments broke out among the crowd, ignited from the spark her punch had thrown. She ran from the scene as fast as she could, throwing off Angela's high heels, and pushing past the two bouncer policemen and into the night air.

And she continued to run, right up to the tram that would take her away. Far, far away from this horrible night.

The whole time all Emmy could think, was how everything was indeed her fault.


	11. Thieves and Nightmarish Things

**Author's** **Note:** Another Friday update as I am off to a cottage for the weekend, so no internet for the next couple of days. However, I hope to get some more writting done.

* * *

Chapter 11: Thieves and Nightmarish Things

Layton had taken no more than three steps into the Grand Hall when he noticed the commotion coming from the lobby.

After Emmy had walked out, he'd spent the last half hour pacing the conservatory going over everything in his head. Only the more he tried to think it through, the worse he felt. How could he possible face Emmy after what he'd done?

And it had been what he'd done that messed up the evening. He was the one that kissed _her._ The kiss that ignited all that emotion and whatnot. He was the one who said Claire's name aloud, and couldn't even explain the situation to Emmy.

He didn't know why he'd done a rash thing like that in the first place. It was something stupid. Something childish….

_It was something a gentleman does not do._ He bowed his head in shame. But he was at a loss of how to make things right. The hurt in Emmy's voice reminded him of Angela's all those years ago, when he lost Randall in the ruins of Akbadain. That had torn their friendship apart for many years … what if he lost Emmy?

Worse, she was alone, with Isaac Nando free to approach her if he dared. Something bothered him by the way the man in sunglasses had looked at her.

He sighed. _Now would be a good time for Randall's lady advice._

And when he'd finally brought up the courage to seek his friend's help, chaos broke loose at the party. Men yelled and threw fists and refreshments –and whatever else they could find. Women accused each other of stealing a date, or shoes, or dresses, or hair style, or some other mundane object.

The mob mentality spread like wildfire and even complete strangers were taking to a brawl.

Layton shoved his way through a sea of people, moving towards the lobby in an attempt to see what was going on, as the worst of it seemed to come from that room.

"Move back, back it up!" the two police officers shouted, clearly overwhelmed by the seething crowd.

He spotted Angela on the outskirts of the mass, backed to the wall to avoid the stampede. "Hershel," she cried and waved him over.

"Angela, where's Randall?" Layton narrowly avoided being run over by a frantic couple. "What is this madness?"

"Fights broke loose in the lobby. Then all over… Randall went to sort things out," she grabbed his hand and pulled him to safety out of the raging man's path. "Where's Emmy?"

"She ran off," Layton's heart sunk at the thought. She could be caught up anywhere in this. What if she'd gotten hurt? Emmy was an excellent fighter, but the sheer numbers of these frantic people….

He led Angela towards the lobby, both of them pressed up against the wall. "I'm afraid I said something rather stupid."

"You've got to be kidding me, Hershel Layton, since when have you ever said anything stupid? Least of all to a girl?"

Before he could figure out if she meant it sarcastically or not, a voice boomed across the room.

"Layton!"

He turned his head to find the senior police officer coming his way. "Could use some help right now. A fight broke loose between two ladies and set the rest of 'em off." He struggled to hold his ground with the mass of people pushing him back. "I called for back-up, they should be here any minute now."

"Sorry for your predicament, I wish I could be of help, but first I need to find my assistant Emmy," Layton said. "You haven't seen her have you?"

"Emmy? Last name wouldn't happen to be Altava would it?"

"Yes, why?"

"Victim says that's the woman who punched her out, and started this whole darn thing."

This news did not help Layton feel any better. Most likely she had run. He had to find Emmy, before any more trouble broke out. He turned to Angela, "Is there another way out of here?"

"Yes, down this hall," she said and he followed her back, going against the grain of the panicking people. They quickly came to the hallway and rushed to a hidden backdoor outside.

Layton sighed in relief to be free of the chaos. Emmy couldn't have fled far in the given time.

"It wasn't really Emmy who started all this was it?" asked Angela as she scanned the surroundings for any sign of the girl.

"Well she was rather upset when she left me," Layton worried that perhaps that paired with some alcohol was enough to set her off her temper. He'd witnessed her incident at last year's Gressenheller New Year's party. Things had gotten a little _vibrant_ to put it nicely. But the only woman he could imagine her picking a fight with was—

"What did you say to her?" Angela stopped in her tracks and shot him a serious look.

Layton turned around avoiding his old friend's eyes. In the distance police cruisers pulled up to the Reunion Inn, and by the number of officers it appeared that the entire force had been sent to control the raging crowd. He bowed his head. "Angela I did something terribly unfai—"

A loud hissing noise came from the hotel's direction, followed by a deafening pop. Layton and Angela looked back. Everything went dead silent for a moment.

Then the world exploded in the most horrid screams he'd ever heard. They trailed out from the hotel, like one endless howling voice. He and Angela winced.

"What's going on in there?" Angela gasped. "Sounds like they're in trouble."

She followed Layton back to the hotel; the awful incoherent cries getting worse and worse with each advance.

They peered through the front doors, and into the lobby. Angela squealed at the sight. Everyone laid on the floor, twitching around in agony.

"What's wrong with them?" she clung to Layton's arm.

He stepped inside tentatively. The air was funny, cloudy, almost like a gas had been released, but was now dissipating.

Angela held her nose. "It smells bad in here, like rotten eggs mixed with skunk." She looked worriedly at all the poor people on the ground. "Randall!"

She ran from Layton's reach and crouched beside her husband. He too had fallen into the bizarre trance, rolling about and crying.

"No you can't take her! Please no! Not Angela!"

"I'm right here, Randall," she cried and shook him. "I'm right here baby!"

Layton took in the awful sight of what had become of the Barthalul Ball. The police officers that had been called for back-up all lay at the front door, brought to the same fate of twitching and crying. "Hmm," he scratched his chin. _  
_

"Hershel, he's not having a seizure is he?" Tears welled up in Angela's eyes. "We should call an ambulance."

Layton looked down at his friend.

"Get off her or I'll kill you!" Randall cried, thrashing about. Angela stepped away, choking back sobs.

"No," he said, very sure of it. "Angela, all these people…they're having nightmares."

\-\-\

The tram door opened and Emmy stepped onto the platform, just outside of Pumpkin Park. She was glad to be in the open air, but this brought back memories of her first visit to Monte d'Or. What a good time the Professor and Luke had riding that roller coaster.

She sighed and headed in the direction of her hotel. _Professor, what do I say to you after this?_

He would not approve of her violent resorts to deal with Mildrew -even if she deserved it. Warren Coates was a sensitive spot, and the woman had no right to bring it up. _Mildrew was asking for it anyway._

The best thing for Emmy right now would be to return to the Dromedary and hope Luke wouldn't ask too many questions . The boy had to be lonely after spending so much time by himself, and she could use a little smile from Luke after this very long night. _Not to mention his nightmare…poor thing might be too afraid to sleep._

Luke had been most upset at being left alone at the hotel. Part of that was due to his worry about her, after the bad dream he'd had. He'd given her a giant hug before she and the Professor had left and said, "Remember your promise Emmy."

The promise not to do anything reckless. _Well, I kept that one for a full eight hours…hurray._

As she came to the intersection that would take her to the hotel something else caught her attention. Down the street stood a man in a white suit and…_.Sunglasses? Why that's odd, I know the lights are bright, but it's still dark_, Emmy stared at him for a moment longer before he turned towards the city's square.

If the Professor were here he'd strongly advise against following a stranger through the streets, but Emmy wasn't in the mindset to listen to anything Layton had to tell her. _When I try to not think about him, I only think about him more, _she grumbled.

Upon turning the corner she lost sight of the man, but something far more disturbing caught her attention. An alarm of some sort –and a very loud one at that- coming from down the street, right where the museum was.

_No,_ she thought and a panic surged through her. She raced towards the blaring noise, her bare feet striking the pavement hard –it was still better than high heels. She willed herself to run faster. Emmy ran up to the museum's doors and pulled. They were locked but someone had definitely triggered the alarm.

_Where are the cops?_ She scanned the area, but found no sign of a cruiser's flashing lights in the distance. Had no police turned up at the scene?

A small crashing sound –like breaking glass- caught her attention, and she whirled around to see a blur of white hop through a window. Emmy went over to investigate. She found an empty frame, with bits of shattered glass scattered about.

_This has to be what set off the alarm,_ she thought. _But I swear someone just went in. _

She really should have waited for the police to come, but Emmy Altava was a woman of action. Looking from the glass littering the ground to her bare feet she sighed. _Maybe I should have kept the heels._

Emmy backed up from the window, the worst of the shards were probably on the other side, but she was confident she could make the jump. With a deep breath she charged the window, springing off the ground and flying over the sill. She came somersaulting onto the cold ground. She checked herself over and had thankfully avoided any glass.

The room was very dark. Emmy squinted, trying to make out where she was. After feeling around and finding a wall, she discovered she was in the art gallery –confirmed when she knocked a painting off said wall.

In the distance came faint footsteps. "Hello," Emmy called, making her way to the door. _Shouldn't there be a security guard around? _

She opened the door and found herself in the main lobby. Thankfully it was illuminated by the museum's huge front windows.

Opposite her, looming over the room like a bad omen was the reconstructed Barthalul's Door. She watched as one side slide shut ever so slightly, causing a boom to resonate in the hollow space.

Emmy approached the Door with caution, finding it had an eerier aura now that she was alone and in the dark. As she neared, two figures caught her attention at the Door's feet. She looked them over; both had been hog tied and knocked unconscious. One was wearing a security guard uniform and the other was—

"Henry!" Emmy gasped. She ran to his side and turned the poor man over. Other than some slight swelling from a bump to the head, he didn't seem to have suffered anything too serious.

"Nnnn…Master Randall…I failed you…I'm so sorry…" Henry mumbled rolling his head from side to side. The security guard was making similar sounds, only about being caught for tax evasion. _They're dreaming,_ she realised. _Just like the Professor the other night…Dammit Altava, why can't you get the man out of your mind!_

She looked up at the Door. It stared down at her. It wasn't even the real thing, but she still felt so small next to it. Emmy sighed and gave it a good, solid kick. It swung open, welcoming her to the Barthalul exhibit. She stepped inside.

Behind the Door lay total darkness; the only light coming from the lobby. Emmy made her way to the middle of the room, where she remembered the podium holding the artifact to be. As she came to its base, the alarm shut off, plunging her into silence.

_Someone cut it._ Her pulse pounded in her head.

A light flickered on directly above her, causing Emmy to jump. It weakly lit up the podium and a small area around it. She dared to look up.

The top of the podium sat vacant. The Barthalul artifact was gone.

Emmy took a step back, and was surprised to feel something under her foot. She looked down at a piece of paper. Gingerly, she picked up the note and, as she feared, on the back it said, unmistakably: _Emmy Altava._

She opened the letter and read it in the poor light.

_There goes another, Miss Altava. My patience wears thin, and yet no word from you? Might I say I am a little disappointed ... _

_Now, if you refuse to cooperate, then I shall **make **you cooperate. However I am confident things won't come to that. _

_And don't worry about tracking me down. Just get what I want, and I'll find you. _

The sound of footsteps drew her attention from the note, and she turned in time to see the Door slam shut.

_No, someone was here_, she ran towards the Door, her heart beating fast. _They had to be involved…it had to be the thief—_

The light died, turning the whole room black. Emmy screamed in surprise and tumbled over something in the dark.


	12. The Ones We Trust Most

Chapter 12: The Ones We Trust Most

"I can't believe it's gone." Randall kicked a stone across the plaza. It bounced a few times before falling into the sewer drain, and Randall groaned.

Layton put a concerned hand on his friend's shoulder. "Try to calm down. I know you're upset, but behaviour like this will get us nowhere."

"We're already nowhere with this!" he cried. "Taking the artifact from Mildrew's camp was one thing, but they duped the museum's security, cut off its power, and bolted the replicated Door down so well, we had to break it open. That whole room will be in ruins. The exhibit is lost. And that was hours ago, the thieves are long gone Hershel, with my city's Barthalul artifact!"

The early hours of morning were well upon Monte d'Or by the time a proper investigation had been set up for the museum robbery. The rest of the museum lay relatively untouched –save a broken window in the art gallery, and a single painting that had received a chip in its frame from being knocked off the wall.

The replicated Door to the Barthalul exhibit however, had been vandalized and barred shut. A crew had only cracked it open moments before to inform Randall of the missing Barthalul artifact.

Like the rest of the victims from the ball, Randall had snapped out of his nightmare state an hour after its inducing. Layton and Angela had stayed by their sides, making sure no one injured themselves in the restless slumber.

The Professor felt guilty at the time for abandoning his search of Emmy –whom he still hadn't seen since the conservatory. But he couldn't leave Angela alone with a hundred wailing people. He hoped his assistant had simply returned to the hotel.

_I'll know soon enough,_ Layton thought. He'd convinced a troubled Angela to give Randall some space, and fetch Luke –and hopefully Emmy- from the Dromedary.

_But if she isn't there._

If something had happened to Emmy last night, he would be responsible.

"We'll get it back Randall," said Layton. "I won't allow them to get away with this."

Randall sighed and took a seat on the museum's stone steps. "It's not just that…Whoever planned this is smart. They took out the entire police force, and everyone else involved with the exhibit at the ball. And they hurt Henry and the security guard."

"The doctor said Henry suffered a mild bump to the head, but he'll be fine Randall, don't worry."

"But those nightmares…," Randall looked sadly at Layton. "I'm sorry, Hersh, I really am."

"Whatever about?"

Randall twisted uncomfortably. "I brushed off your nightmare about Emmy yesterday. When you said, you lost her….Well, I dreamt about Angela during the attack. That someone was trying to hurt her."

"I'm such a jerk. I gave you tea and we laughed about it. But you really needed someone to talk to. And now she's actually missing and—"

"Randall," Layton cleared his throat. "You were still there and comforted me in the way you knew how, like a true friend. I am confident that Emmy went back to the hotel last night and is on her way here with Luke and Angela as we speak."

"What happened to you two last night?" Randall straightened his glasses, and looked up at his old friend. "A police officer told me she punched Audrey Mildrew out at the bar, before the party went wild."

Layton readjusted his top hat and sighed. "I suppose that's another matter to sort out..."

"Excuse me, Mr. Ascot," the chief of police, Inspector Sheffield waddled up to the two. The man hadn't changed much from the last time Layton was in Monte d'Or. Sheffield was still stout, tanned and white haired, and appeared just as iron fisted as ever. "And Layton, just the other man I was looking for."

"What is it Chief?" Randall stood up to face the officer. "We have any idea who's behind this?"

"We have a witness to this crime," Sheffield crossed his arms and gave Layton a serious look, "but you Professor Layton, have some explaining to do, along with that lady assistant of yours."

"Whatever do you mean Inspector—" Layton's word's caught in his throat when he saw the familiar young woman two officers were leading out of the museum.

"Wait," Randall's jaw dropped. "Is that Emmy?"

\-\-\

"When we will be able to see Emmy?" Luke asked, looking up at the Professor impatiently.

"When Chief Inspector Sheffield says we can," Layton replied.

Luke and Angela had arrived at the scene shortly after Emmy was discovered in the Barthalul exhibit. After Layton convinced the Chief that he knew not how she came to be there, Sheffield allowed the group to come back to the station while he interrogated Emmy. They had been waiting there ever since for the past hour or so.

"What's taking so long?" the boy whined. "They don't think Emmy was involved do they? She's the victim here, caught and locked up behind the Door like Henry!"

Layton sighed and rubbed his temples. He hadn't gotten any sleep thanks to the eventful night, and any chances for a nap were quickly foiled by Luke's persistent chatter. _He's just concerned is all_, Layton reasoned.

"She's being interviewed as a witness," said Angela patting the boy on the shoulders. "Chief Sheffield won't go too hard on her, right Randall?"

Randall, who had been deep in thought, turned around suddenly. "No, I don't think so…but they are taking their sweet time in there." He took off in the direction of the briefing room. "I'm going to go talk to Sheffield. See how much longer this is going to take, so we can get Em back, and track down the thief."

When her husband turned the corner Angela sighed, and gave a concerned look to a very sleepy Layton.

"He knows what he's doing," the Professor yawned. "Excuse me."

"Maybe you should take a nap Hershel," said Angela. "I can wait here with Luke."

"I don't need anyone to watch me Miss Angela," Luke turned to his mentor. "You really should take a nap Professor. And hey, how did you get separated from Emmy anyway?"

A knot tightened in Layton's gut. He couldn't tell Luke about the kiss. Or what almost followed.

He didn't even have any idea how he was ever going to make it up to Emmy.

"It was…err, an adult matter, my boy."

Luke, although still curious, sat back politely in the chair and said not another word. Angela raised an eyebrow, and Layton could simply bow his head in response.

_I could always tell Emmy about Claire, _he thought. _Not that it would make her feel any better…_ but his pondering was soon interrupted when an officer walked into the waiting room, with none other than Audrey Mildrew behind him.

"Hershel," she said. Her pretty face was very swollen, and her nose slightly crooked, presumably Emmy's handiwork. "Can I talk with you outside?"

He nodded and followed her to a private hallway. "I heard about your fight with Emmy," he said. Although apologizing for his assistant's actions would be the gentlemanly thing to do, Layton wanted to know what Mildrew had to say for herself. Surely Emmy had her reasons for acting so impulsively.

"Yes," Mildrew glared. "She broke my nose your assistant. And during a wonderful conversation too." She pouted. "I heard the police found her this morning in the Barthalul exhibit. An exhibit without its key treasure I might add."

"And we will continue to search for the ones responsible for this thievery," Layton assured.

"Are you certain your team is trustworthy?"

"Emmy is not involved if that's what you're implying."

"How can you be sure Hershel? The museum's artifact was huge! It would have taken a whole team to take it out. You know well enough the nightmare attack at the ball was no coincidence with the theft. And how convenient it was of Monte d'Or's police force to be caught up there, in the process of stopping a fight Emmy Altava started when she hit me!" Mildrew voice took a darker tone. He dared say he almost preferred Mildrew, when she was all flirty with him. Now the woman was dead serious, and angry. "I've been victimized yet again!"

Layton shook his head, "She isn't behind this."

"When the first artifact went missing where was Miss Altava?"

He grimaced knowing what Mildrew was getting at. "I don't see how this is relevant…. "

"Did you have contact with her that week?"

"She was on vacation, I—"

"Did you see Miss Altava that week?"

The Professor gritted his teeth. "No."

"Then how can you say you are sure that she was not involved in its disappearance?"

"You still have no proof that she was," said Layton defensively, but a very small part of him doubted his words. He truly did not know what Emmy was up to during her leave, only that she had wrecked her scooter during the time, and that she was not fond of this case…or the Legend of Barthalul's Door.

"My other Barthalul artifact, the one I always keep on me. It's gone," Mildrew stepped towards the Professor her fists balled. "I had it before my incident with Miss Altava, and now it's missing too."

Layton tried to reason with himself. _Anyone could have taken the artifact while Mildrew was unconscious. The frenzy would have been a perfect cover too._

"I still think you may be stretching things," Layton said. "You're upset that someone stole from you, and perhaps you're making connections that aren't there. I know you and Emmy never got along—"

"Hershel," she said. "We never stayed connected after college, and for this reason you deem me…untrustworthy." Mildrew looked away. "But I also know you're rather fond of Miss Altava, and I think it might be clouding you're judgment."

He could not deny the valid point. Layton did have feelings of some sort for Emmy -there was no other explanation for what went down at the conservatory. However, the very nature of the feelings and where they were going, he did not know as of yet. Layton could have already blown any chance with her after last night.

But Emmy had been acting strange this whole case. She had been hiding something this whole case. _If she knew something she would tell me_, he thought. _Unless, as Mildrew pointed out, she was involved._

Layton wouldn't believe it. How could he trust anything Mildrew said? He didn't remember her! He didn't know her!

_But do you really know Emmy?_ The unpleasant thought crept up like a sour aftertaste to the almost perfect cup of tea. Because in all honesty, as Layton thought about it some more, he didn't know much about Emmy from outside of work.

When is her birthday? Where did she grow up? What does she do on weekends? Is she a cat person or a dog person? Who is her best friend? What are her dreams? Her deepest fears? What does she want most in the world?

When she'd called about visiting her parents, it was the first time she'd even mentioned them.

_No,_ he wouldn't believe it. He had to hear Emmy explain first. He still trusted her. She'd earned that from him.

Layton took a deep breath. "I must be going, but first, Audrey, what were you talking about with Emmy at the ball?"

Mildrew leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Just some questions concerning the case. Then I brought up Warren Coates and she flipped out. Definitely something fishy there-"

"Hershel."

Layton and Mildrew's attentions were pulled to the other side of the hall. There stood Henry, a bandage around his head, but otherwise he looked unscathed from his incident.

"Sorry to interrupt, but Sheffield is willing to let you talk with Emmy now."

"Thank you Henry," Layton nodded to Mildrew. "I appreciate your input, however, I advise we continue to investigate other leads."

She met him with no expression what so ever. "I'll consider it." And with that she left.

As Henry led Layton down the hall, the man let out a great sigh. "This isn't good Hershel. They got another Barthalul artifact, and I…I failed Master Randall."

"I'm afraid it's two artifacts Henry. Miss Mildrew has just informed me that hers was stolen as well," Layton frowned. "And you did everything you could, Randall knows that. We should be thankful you weren't hurt badly."

"What!" Henry wheeled around, ignoring the last part of Layton's sentence. "That woman lost her artifact? This is what she gets for carrying it around."

"Yes, I'm afraid so. Did you find any information on Warren Coates?" The more Layton thought about it, Mildrew –he dared say- was right about Emmy's unease around the mention of Mr. Coates.

_Could she really have known him?_

Layton did not like the idea of Emmy lying to him. He needed more information on the mysterious man.

"Coates? Yes, they gave me a whole file on Coates," said Henry. "I dropped it off at the estate, so we can pick through it later."

"Good, very good. You talked to him in person correct?"

"Yes."

"Had he ever been to London?"

"I don't know... most likely"

"Did he ever mention anyone, a woman?"

"I know he had a wife and daughter, but he never talked to me about personal matters. It was always business…wait." Henry stopped in his tracks. "London. The fourth Barthalul piece is in London. Hershel, you don't suppose that…"

"Our Barthalul thieves will strike there next."

"Yes," Henry tapped his foot nervously. "As the fifth artifacts location is still unknown, we have to assume the London museum will be the next target. We have to send someone to London, to check things out and warn Scotland Yard about a heist. We're running out of time, we don't even know what they hope to gain from this. If only we knew of the fifth artifact, then we would have some leverage at the very least…" he grimaced at another thought. "I wish it wouldn't come to this…but it's time. Hershel, you've got to send Emmy and Luke to London."

"Why?" Layton was leery to put so much responsibility on Emmy, with everything that had happened. He also didn't want her involved in another potential theft.

"Tension will be high in Monte d'Or after last night's incidents. Angela has expressed some concerns over Emmy's wellbeing, says she's very stressed. Perhaps it would do her some good if we sent her to a quieter atmosphere. She won't be involved with the artifacts protection; we just need some eyes and ears in London."

"And besides," said Henry. "I don't want them following us -you know how stubborn they are. You see Hershel, I'm taking you to Isaac Nando. To figure out where the last Barthalul artifact is."

\-\-\

Emmy didn't know how much longer she could sit in the room. It was quite small, two chairs, a table, cold metal walls, and a one-way window –she dared not think about who was watching her at the moment.

Furthermore Emmy had never been in a dress for this long in her life and it was starting to peeve her. Also her boots would have been nice over bare feet –the floor was very cold.

She'd behaved herself rather well, answering all the questions Chief Inspector Sheffield had asked –omitting the note she gotten- but he'd left quite some time ago, and Emmy was alone.

She'd come to when the replicated Door had been bashed open and a torch's bright light assaulted her eyes. Emmy figured she'd been trapped in the exhibit the rest of the night, and it brought her much disdain that the object she'd tripped over was none other than Warren Coates' poster stand.

_You just won't stop ruining my life will you_, she grumbled.

Just as she was about to knock on the one sided glass window and demand human contact, the door flung open.

"Look I've already told you everything I know, so can I please lea— Randall!"

The young woman jumped up in joy at the sight of the ginger haired man. A small part of her was relived it wasn't the Professor. She didn't know what she'd say to him.

"Are you alright?" he asked with concern.

"Yes I'm fine, but how are you? Sheffield told me about the attack at the ball. I hope no one was hurt. And Henry! Is he okay, I found him at the museum and…."

"Em, settle down," Randall pulled up a chair and sat opposite her. "Everyone's fine, well except for Audrey Mildrew. She suffered a broken nose in a bar fight with a ruffian."

_Serves her right_, Emmy couldn't help but smirk, and even Randall gave her a small, approving nod.

"Look," he said. "They're letting you out of here. Sheffield couldn't find anything in your witness statement , other than the man you followed down the street. How did you describe him again?"

"White suit and sunglasses," Emmy had told the police this what felt like ten zillion times. She bounced impatiently in her chair, more than ready to get out of the confining room.

Randall, however, didn't look too pleased. "Nando…," he whispered.

"Pardon?"

Randall shook his head. "Just thinking out loud," he looked up at Emmy in an almost nervous way. "I know you stumbled onto the museum robbery on your way back to the hotel after the Mildrew incident…but you were supposed to be with Hershel."

Emmy frowned. _Did the Professor tell him?_

"Did something happen between you two? He's seemed a little off this morning, and I haven't talked to him about it yet, but Angela mentioned he felt really bad about something he said to you last night…."

The very moment came back to Emmy. With everything that happened with Mildrew and the museum, she'd pushed the memory way back.

The Professor. His arms were so strong and secure around her, the very feel of him so close to her…it was all so amazing.

Then he said _her_ name_._

Emmy looked up at Randall with the most neutral expression she could muster, hoping he couldn't see her pain. "Do you know who Claire is?"

Randall face took on a shocked expression. "No idea. Did Hershel mention her?"

"I guess she wasn't from Stansbury then…."

"Wait, Em, is this what your fight was about?"

"It wasn't a fight Randall," Emmy looked down at her hands and began to twiddle her thumbs. She wished she had her camera at the moment, so she could play with its dials instead. "Just, something…something he wouldn't tell me."

_Like I can talk about secrets_, she thought, knowing just how much she was keeping from this case. From Luke and the Professor. From herself.

Randall smiled and rose from the table. "You know, some things about Hershel may have changed in the eighteen years I was gone: his view on archeology, his mischievous side, and last of all his hair. But there are two things that will always remain the same with old Hershel Layton."

He stuck out one finger. "First, the man will never leave a puzzle unsolved, and second," Randall stuck out a second finger, "he will always be there for a good friend, like any true gentleman."

He placed a hand on Emmy's shoulder. "And Em, you are a good friend of his. He told me himself, well maybe not directly, but I know he thinks highly of you."

_Then why would he keep Claire from me? _Randall gave Emmy this look, like he was trying to read her mind.

_"_It's funny," he said. "The people we trust most in this world are the very ones we tend to keep our secrets from."

A loud rapping came from the door, and Randall moved away from her. "But it's only because those are the people we're afraid to lose." He shot her a final smile before Professor Layton himself came into the interrogation room.

Randall nodded politely to his old friend before exciting, leaving Emmy alone with her mentor, whom she had so many mix-feelings about as of late.

"Professor," she said, unsure of what to do, what to feel.

He bowed his head, and took the chair across from her. With a great sigh he uttered the very phrase she knew was coming, but she dreaded it all the same.

"Emmy, we need to have a talk."

\-\-\

She looked away from him then, and went back to playing with her thumbs anxiously. Layton himself felt rather strained in the position, but he had to say something.

"I…I'm sorry…."

"I know Professor."

"My dear, you have every right to be upset, and angry, and…."

"Professor…."

"I'm glad you're alright," he attempted a smile, to which she met with a neutral face, still refusing to look at him.

"Likewise."

A long silence followed, one Layton found so odd in Emmy's presence. She was usually so chatty with him. _Oh, Hershel, how badly have you messed this up…._

"I'm sending you and Luke back to London."

Emmy's eyes met his for the first time since stepping into the room. They quickly darted down to the table again. "This is between us. If you're sending me back to London, Luke doesn't need to go. I would think he'd rather stay with you anyway."

Layton shook his head. "I already explained it to him and he understands. I've got two tickets for a train that departs tonight; you'll be home by late morning. Henry is taking me to talk with a potentially dangerous man for the sake of this case. I can't have you and Luke involved."

"Always the gentleman," she huffed, and crossed her arms.

"I would think Luke would be safer with you."

"So I'm a babysitter and bodyguard now?"

"I'm just concerned for both of your safety."

He remembered the way Isaac Nando had watched Emmy at the ball. If something went wrong at the meeting, he would surely use her against him. She had to leave Monte d'Or, and take Luke with her for their own good."

"There is another reason, and it's just as important. I need you and Luke to be on the lookout in London. I fear the Barthalul artifact at the museum is no longer safe."

"And why wouldn't the thieves not go after Mildrew's piece, whilst they're still in the City of Miracles?"

` "They already have it," he said, and watched the shock spread on her face. "Miss Mildrew also seems to believe you are the one who responsible for its taking. It and the other missing artifacts."

"And do you believe her?" Emmy continued to stare off at the ground.

"No," he swallowed, and chose his next words carefully, "but I wish you would give me a reason to confirm my disbelief."

"I didn't do it," she turned and looked at him very seriously. "You know I didn't do it."

"I want to believe it, my dear," Layton tried to not dwell on the hurt in her eyes. "But you've been acting strangely around this case…."

"Mildrew's a liar!" Emmy spat. "She doesn't like me, you know she doesn't. She taunted me into punching her out! I have nothing to do with the theft. She's getting to your head—"

"What about Warren Coates?"

Emmy sat back in her chair, her face a ghastly white.

"Did you have contact with Warren Coates?"

"Professor."

"If I am to have faith in you anymore Emmy, I need you to tell me the truth. Mildrew seems to think you knew Warren Coates…is she right?"

Emmy twisted nervously in her chair. He half worried she would knock the window out and flee the question. "Yes…," she closed her eyes. "I-I knew Warren Coates."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She turned away and stared off at the ceiling. "I didn't think it mattered…."

"Emmy, of course it matters."

"But it doesn't! I found out he died two weeks after it happened. Hell, I haven't spoken to the man in the past fourteen years!" she placed her head in her hands. "And I've spent the whole bloody time trying to forget him. Some good that did…."

Seeing her in such distress crushed Layton. If things had been like they were before last night, he would have reached a hand across the table, or done something to try and comfort her. But doing so would only confuse her more, and Layton once again found himself at a loss.

"Surely he must have mattered… to have upset you so greatly."

"No," she shook her head, fighting tears. "He's nothing in my mind."

"My dear, you don't _try_ to forget someone who means nothing."

"And what do you know about that!?" she flipped out of the chair in a sudden burst of rage, which caused Layton to nearly fall backwards in surprise. "I'll tell you something about _nothing _Professor! You don't keep _nothing_ in your sock drawer! You don't cry about _nothing _in your sleep! You don't whisper _nothing_ into another woman's ear while you're …." she groaned and stormed off, her face to the wall.

Never had Layton seen Emmy so angry before. _How long has she been harbouring this?_ he wondered.

"Emmy if all this is about last night—"

"Of course it's about last night! How in bloody hell could it not be?!" she cried. "You kissed me Professor. You kissed me out of bloody nowhere! And I liked. I dare say loved it Professor! And I was willing to give myself to you! We were about to…" she gasped and her voice shook. "…because I thought you really cared, but all the while you were thinking of your mysterious Claire. Claire, who you obviously fancy so bloody much. I don't see why you don't just man and up find her. It saves you the trouble of fantasizing about it with another woman!"

Emmy's face turned a violent red. Layton sat there like a little lost puppy. She did not know how deep her words penetrated.

She glared at him in silence for what felt like an eternity. He felt he should have said something, but what could he possibly say? Nothing he said was going to make this okay.

Nothing he said could ever make things okay again.

"You know," said Emmy. "I will never be a proper lady, and I accept that…but I thought I'd finally found a gentleman who that didn't matter to," she looked away from Layton, her face contorted in pain. "I guess I was wrong. You're no more the gentleman than that cheating scumbag Coates."

She placed her hand on the doorknob. "And I've changed my mind about London. I think it will be good for us to get some space."

With that Emmy walked out the door, her spirit crushed in Layton's mind. And after all she'd said to him, he only felt a deep sense of guilt and shame.

"I'm sorry my dear," he pulled his top hat over his eyes. For it was in that moment, that Layton realized what it felt like to break someone's heart.


	13. Back in London

Chapter 13: Back in London

The train ride felt like forever.

Emmy stared out the window of the compartment, watching scenery flight by while she drifted in and out of sleep. The sun was on the horizon, meaning they'd be reaching their destination in the next couple of hours.

She was worried about returning to London. If the thieves got the artifact there, they would come looking for the fifth one. The threatening notes hung like dead weight in her pocket; what if the Professor or Luke got caught up in this?

_I won't let that happen_, Emmy told herself, _I promise nothing bad will happen. _

Besides, preparations would be made for the museum's security.

She looked over at Luke. The boy lay in the seat opposite her, fast asleep and snoring. He hadn't had any nightmares during the train ride to Emmy's great relief.

Luke had been quite respectful to her since boarding the train. She dared say an 'angel'. Emmy knew he sensed the tension between her and the Professor, but never bothered her about it. She felt bad, as he probably had no clue why his two companions were at odds, and the poor boy was caught in the middle.

Emmy and the Professor hadn't spoken after the fight. They'd returned to the hotel so Emmy and Luke could gather a few of their belongings for the trip home –and Emmy could change into her usual clothes. The Professor had insisted he would take the suitcases back with him when he returned to London after his all-important interview.

He announced he'd leave Monte d'Or first thing tomorrow, and hopefully meet them at his house the following morning . The three had then gone out for a quiet and most awkward meal, before Emmy and Luke departed for the train station. The Professor had wished them a safe journey, and looked at Emmy with such sadness in his eyes.

She hadn't the heart to meet them.

Emmy had acted terribly in the interrogation room. She knew it too, and as guilty as she felt for hurting Layton, a part of her felt…relieved.

And Emmy did not really know what to make of that.

"I'm sorry Luke," she whispered to the sleeping boy. "I know this must be difficult for you, but you've been so strong." She leaned over and kissed his forehead. "I'll try to be strong. At least for your sake."

Emmy sat back and watched the sun rise, setting the horizon in a warm glow of light. Today was a new day.

\-\-\

Their first stop was Scotland Yard. It was a rather busy day at the office, as it seemed Monte d'Or's robbery had reached London, and everyone wanted to get the story straight. Emmy and Luke barely walked through the doors and into a crowd of persistent reporters when the duo caught a certain Inspector's attention.

"Oi, Emmy!" called Inspector Grosky, still as buff chested and energetic as always. "Perfect timing, where's that Professor of yours? We could use his help."

Emmy pulled Luke through the crowd and closer to the Inspector. "Sorry Grosky, he's still in Monte d'Or. You'll have to make do with Luke and I."

"Already on top of these disappearing artifacts hey?" said Grosky with a smirk. "He is a wonder that man."

"We were in Monte d'Or when it happened," Luke piped up not wanting to be forgotten. "The Professor sent us back to warn the museum that the thieves could strike the Barthalul artifact in London next."

"Always one step ahead he is. I was just on my way there to talk with ol'Chappy," Grosky led the way to the door, the reporters stepping aside as he came through. "You're welcome to meet me there." And with that the Inspector dashed off down the street at a seemingly impossible speed.

"He knows the museum's the other way right?" asked Luke.

Emmy shook her head, and started off in the proper direction. "Oh, I'm sure he'll figure it out eventually."

\-\-\

Much to Emmy's surprise, Grosky was waiting for them at the museum's steps, without so much as a hair out of place –and this was saying something, as the man had an abundance of chest hair.

"Took a slight detour, but that's not enough to stop Grosky of the Yard!" he puffed his chest proudly.

An excited Grosky led the way through the museum, to a small stand where the Barthalul artifact was on display. The sight of the artifact made Emmy's stomach churn. She wanted nothing more than to ride herself of its presence. But Chappy was already waiting for them there, and they had business to attend to.

"So glad, Scotland Yard sent someone over," said the curator. "I heard about the incident in Monte d'Or. That someone's after the Barthalul pieces."

Emmy figured he must really mean it to switch to plain English for once. _Getting Luke to decipher his cat tongue would have been a pain_, she thought remembered the last incident.

"That's correct," said Emmy. "And we're afraid this one might be in danger too."

"Not to fear," said Grosky. "Scotland Yard will have officers positioned at all the perimeters. None shall get past."

"But these thieves are smart," said Luke. "They got past Monte d'Or's security."

"Yes, but we will be prepared!" Grosky yelled in triumph. "No one gets the best of Scotland Yard!"

Emmy just hoped the rest of the officers weren't as bullheaded as Grosky. _His logic was never the best_, she sighed. And Luke was right, whoever stole the artifacts was very clever indeed.

"We just need to take precautions," she said. "We still can't figure out why anyone is after the artifacts."

"To get Barthalul's secrets of course," said Chappy. Although he was speaking English he still pawed as the air in a rather cat-like manner as he spoke. "If there really is great knowledge behind the Door, then it could cause trouble in the wrong hands."

"What kind of knowledge is it exactly?" asked Luke.

"Knowledge of everything," Chappy replied.

"That's kind of vague," said Luke with a frown.

"Well, knowledge of any kind is power," Grosky interjected.

"Yes, but knowledge is not the only thing the Door keeps," said Chappy. "Barthalul placed a curse on the Door you see, to keep his treasure safe. The nature of the curse is also vague, only that it knows true fear, inducing a night terror state on all trespassers. Some believed, it was an ancient spirit the philosopher summoned, but again, I've heard so many versions."

"Emmy," said Luke with an excited glint in his eye. "Everyone at the Barthalul ball suffered a nightmare attack. Do you think it has something to do with the curse?"

"I think it's still early to be jumping to conclusions," said Emmy, not wanting to think of the ball. "Just be on the lookout for anyone suspicious, Chappy."

She still didn't believe that the Door was anything more than a story, and this "cursed entity' guardian sounded ridiculous, but the thieves had already caused a world of trouble in Monte d'Or, and it would be horrible for anyone else to get hurt. "I'm sure they'll scout the place out before the heist."

Chappy nodded and they left him to attend to other museum matters. Luke ran off to look at the fossil exhibit leaving Grosky and Emmy alone.

"You all right there Emmy?" he asked, breaking the silence quickly. "You seem a little down."

"I'm fine," she said, a little taken aback that Grosky had even noticed.

"It just seems like all the fight's been taken out of you today."

"Never," Emmy smiled and gave him a hard punch to the shoulder that was more or less intentional.

"Ha, just checking," Grosky smiled rubbing his shoulder.

"What are your plans now Inspector?" she said quickly before he could pursue the matter.

He cleared his throat. "Return to tell Chelmey about museum defenses for tonight, then I'm off to Monte d'Or to get the scoop from Chief Inspector Sheffield." He took a step towards the museum's doors. "And Emmy, don't you ever let anything or anyone knock you down, because you're more than capable of taking them. Now, I, Grosky of the Yard, best be off!" he cried, and with that Inspector Grosky was running off again.

She watched him turn down the road, narrowly avoided a black van turning into the museum's parking lot.

"You know what?" said Luke as he stepped next to Emmy, watching Grosky's dust trail disperse. "I think he's even faster than you."

Emmy smiled. What Grosky had said was true: she shouldn't let all her bad feelings get the best of her. She and Luke still had a whole afternoon ahead of them. And the Professor had trusted her with the boy. She couldn't let him down, not again.

_Perhaps you can surprise us with something smart once in a while Inspector…._

She turned to her companion. "So, Luke, do you want to go get some ice cream?"

\-\-\

"Emmy, take a picture of me here!" Luke called posing in front of the water fountain. He threw his arms up in glee as stray mists of water covered his back.

Emmy raised her camera and took the shot. She and Luke had had a wonderful day. After getting ice cream, exploring the park, and checking out all of London's little shops they grabbed dinner at a small café and were headed to Emmy's flat. They were in the area and Luke wanted to see where she lived. Besides she needed to grab a pair of pajamas before going to the Professor's house, where her and Luke would spend the night and meet him there the following morning.

Of course the journey to Emmy's place was taking some time, with the two stopping every five minutes to take a picture or solve a puzzle for a friendly stranger. Emmy thought that perhaps she should have been doing more to help with the case, but spending some free time with Luke was doing her wonders.

_Scotland Yard has everything under control, _Emmy reassured herself, _and this case has done nothing but drag me down._

__Her thoughts immediately went to Warren Coates. Warren Coates ... How could she ever deal with him?

"Do you think it's going to rain tonight?" Luke looked up at a darkening sky.

"I don't know what the forecast is, but I'd say we're in for a storm," said Emmy. The dark clouds in the distance casted an ominous aura. And this was London they were talking about.

They came to Emmy's building just as the wind picked up from a cool evening breeze to an angry bluster. She unlocked the door and they ran up to the second floor where her flat was located.

"So this is your place," said Luke in wonder, taking in the tiny apartment.

Most of the room was taken up by a sofa, but there was a small kitchen and counter that doubled as Emmy's table, and a hallway that led to a bathroom and single bedroom. Framed photographs of beautiful scenery lined the walls, in a very simplistic but sweet way. It was definitely Emmy's work.

"My bedroom's a bit of a tough case," said Emmy. "I keep everything in there, so it's very cluttered. At least one part of my living space is presentable to guests."

"I like it," said Luke, plopping himself on the couch. "It's nice."

"I'll put on the kettle for hot chocolate," Emmy winked.

Luke nodded . "Now if the Professor was here, he would go into the properties of a good cup of tea."

"Yeah," Emmy laughed half-heartily as she got down two mugs and the chocolate mix from her cupboards.

"I'm sorry," said Luke, and he looked down ashamed. "I shouldn't have brought him up."

"No, it's okay. The Professor does love his tea," she said.

"Is there something up with you two?" Luke asked, trying his best not to sound worried - and failing at it.

Emmy sighed. "We're just in the middle of…an adult conflict. But everything's okay."

"You seem pretty mad at him."

"I'm not mad at—" Emmy stopped herself, because it wasn't true.

She _was_ mad at the Professor, hurt that he would take Mildrew's theories and accuse her of involvement in the thefts. And she had admitted to knowing Warren Coates when he asked, which was unthinkably hard to admit, but he had still denied the existence of Claire. That he would go so far, as to have a moment of intimacy with her while thinking of another woman….

Yes, she was angry and upset with the Professor, but she was even more furious with herself. For lying to him, for not telling him about the note from the thief, or what really happened on her 'holiday', or her relation to Warren Coates all those years ago….

But mostly she was dying over the fact that she couldn't tell the Professor how she truly felt toward him, and maybe that was because she didn't even know herself, but the way she had acted in the interrogation room had been horrible.

"I…I said some pretty mean things to him," Emmy slumped next to Luke on the sofa. "I don't know if I can be forgiven for it."

"Of course the Professor will forgive you Emmy," said Luke. "A true gentleman never holds a grudge, and I'm sure if you apologize, everything will be fine."

The kettle whistled, and Emmy gave him a soft smile before rising to fetch it.

_If only things were that simple_, she thought. The real question wasn't if the Professor could forgive, as he was an understanding man.

_But can I forgive?_ thought Emmy. _Can I forgive him? Can I even forgive myself?_

She returned with two cups of hot chocolate, and a can of whipped cream.

"Whipped cream!" cried Luke in joy. "Thank you Emmy, this is a real treat." He proceeded to squirt a mountain of the white, fluffy substance onto his cup.

Emmy felt her heart give a little at the look of his innocent face. It melted her bad thoughts away. She remembered her goal to have this day end on a happy note.

"Now Luke, that's no way to eat whipped cream," she said picking up the can and shooting it straight into her mouth. "You've got to do it like this," she mumbled through stuffed cheeks. Nothing fixed a mood better than hot cocoa and whipped cream!

"Let me try," Luke giggled, taking the can from her.

The two happily finished their hot chocolates without any other care in the world.

Outside a storm was brewing.

* * *

**Author's Note:** School starts again this coming week. I've had a lovely summer, but man, does time fly. I was hoping that it wouldn't effect my weekly updates, but life's been busy and I don't have as much written as I would like, not to mention the oodles of editing that need to get done. So I apologize in advance, but in the future I may need to skip a week or two, because I would hate to rush things and put out material I am not satisfied with. I will notify on my profile if an update is being delayed. Thanks.


	14. Isaac Nando's Game

**Author's Note:** First of all, you guys remember the Conservatory scene from chapter 9? Well, the wonderful and talented Zillabean has captured that moment in a beautiful picture. There's a link on my profile, so be sure to check it out.

Secondly, I hope the format for this chapter isn't confusing with the time jumps. Fingers crossed.

* * *

Chapter 14: Isaac Nando's Game

**Present**

The storm worsened the closer Layton got to London. Brilliant displays of lightening flashed across the sky, illuminating the dark country roads. Thunder cracked, and shook the Laytonmobile, already buffeted by the rain and whatever the wind picked up.

Visibility was terrible, but Layton took the risk to leave Monte d'Or earlier than planned, and continue forth. He felt himself growing more and more anxious as he drew nearer –even going as far as to push the speed limit by a kilometer or two.

At this rate he would get home around midnight, where Emmy and Luke would be fast asleep and not expecting his early arrival.

He assured himself many times that his two assistants were safe and sound at in his home, watching the storm roll by over a cup of tea –or hot cocoa- and that his worries were premature. Emmy had always said that he worried too much for his own good.

_Oh, Emmy…_

This comfort seemed false, as Layton found himself worrying anyway. He had to get back, and only in the moment he knew for sure they were okay would he be at ease. This feeling only made the few pit stops he'd taken to catch a twenty-minute nap, worsen.

His conversation with Isaac Nando, and the information in the police files brought up some new leads in the case. Ones the Professor wished had turned out otherwise.

The pieces were coming together and Layton was sure he'd finally found Emmy's reasons to despise Barthalul, and everything about this case. Knowing crushed him, and he couldn't fathom how she was handling this…and all on her own.

Sending Emmy back to London to watch over its Barthalul artifact would only bring up more bad feelings. With all that had happened, it was not something either of them needed.

Layton hoped that he would be wrong about Emmy and her involvement in the case. That he would get back and she and Luke would be fine, and he could have another talk with her, one that would end pleasantly with them making up.

He prayed he would be wrong about her and Warren Coates.

But Layton _knew_ he was right.

And he had to get to London as quickly as possible.

\-\-\

**28 hours earlier**

Layton watched sadly as the train pulled away from the station with Luke and Emmy on board. Emmy was still upset, refusing to even look his way, which was understandable, but parting with her on such ill terms felt wrong. It wasn't fair to Luke either, who was very confused as to why he and Emmy stopped talking.

He'd stayed at the platform for the longest time, wondering if and how he could patch things up with Emmy when they reunited. Because Layton honestly did really care for her, even after all she had said, because Emmy was just confused and angry.

And Claire's name had been a slip up after all…it was what he kept telling himself.

When the train's smoke could no longer be seen Layton headed back to the Ascot estate, to check out the files Henry had brought, and later pay Isaac Nando a visit. Halfway there he had met a familiar face, Randall, whom he hadn't seen since that morning.

"Hershel," he ran up to him. "Are Luke and Emmy gone already?"

"The train left," said Layton, hoping their journey would be a safe one.

"Henry's back at the house, and ready to take you to Nando."

"I would like to look over the police files first if you don't mind," said Layton. The subject of Warren Coates weighed heavily on his mind.

"Henry says it must be now. Don't worry about the files on Coates. Angela and I will look them over. It'll save you some time anyway, so you can get back to Luke and Emmy…" Randall stopped in his tracks and looked as his friend seriously. "I had a good chat with her in the interrogation room."

"I would think it went better than mine." The sad twinge hit him in the gut again. The things she said to him. The way she'd looked at him….

"Emmy said she followed a man into the museum," said Randall with a hint of concern in his voice. "One matching Isaac Nando's description the night of the ball."

"You don't suppose he has something to do with this?"

"I don't know. Nando's a strange guy from what Henry's told me."

A silence followed that made Layton uncomfortable. Usually Randall was quite the chatterbox, and Layton could barely get a word in. There was definitely something on his mind….

"Who's Claire?"

"Randall…" Layton stopped in his tracks, shocked by the question that came out of nowhere.

"Because Emmy asked me. She seemed quite upset about it. I know things have been a little heated between you two lately," he placed a hand on Layton's shoulder. "Look, I don't know who Claire is, but she certainly wasn't from Stansbury…."

"She's— Emmy and I...," said Layton feeling all flustered again.

"What happened to you two, the night of the Barthalul ball?"

"Randall it was nothing—" He caught himself in the lie. He couldn't take it any longer. All his life Layton had been the type to conceal his feelings. There was no need to worry others with his problems. They were nothing really…..

_'I'll tell you something about nothing Professor!'_

Emmy's words rang out in his conscious. Was it not the concept of nothing that had torn them apart in the interrogation room? Because in the end, didn't nothing have to mean _something_?

Keeping all the feelings inside, it would destroy him. Just like they had hurt Emmy….

"Oh, Randall…what have I done?"

And so, in the time it took to walk back to the Ascot Estate, Layton told his dear friend about the lovely young woman to whom he'd given his heart in college, and the tragedy that led to her untimely departure from this world.

He explained how over the years he'd tried to pick up the pieces to his shattered self. But try as he might, there was always one piece missing, one part to make him whole again.

And it had been another wonderful young lady –who did not think she deserved such a title, although this was far from the truth— who found that lost element, and for the first time, in a long, long time, he was truly happy.

But in his moment of solace, Hershel Layton had forgotten that although whole, he was still a broken man. And now he'd scattered the pieces of two weary hearts, with a simple, yet all too soon kiss.

\-\-\

**27 hours earlier**

"Is this it Henry?"

Layton looked hesitantly at the door. They had been waiting around in the part of Monte d'Or near the casino, where characters of all class and morals were found. According to Henry, Isaac Nando was expecting them on the other side at exactly six o'clock.

He was not one to judge others based on appearance or their preferred 'hangout' locations alone, but meeting with a supposed gang leader in high risk environment unnerved Layton a little. Henry seemed perfectly comfortable having done this many times before.

"Yes, this is Mr. Nando's place," said Henry calmly.

Layton had left with Henry immediately after he turned up with Randall at the Ascot estate. He was feeling relieved to finally have told someone about his predicament with Emmy, and Randall had been most attentive.

Randall even offered him some friendly advice. "Just tell Em exactly what you told me: about Claire and how you never though you could have those feelings for someone after her death, but that she changed everything."

Layton was skeptical, as Emmy had been quite angry at the fact that he'd accused her of being involved in the robberies. Randall assured that Emmy just needed time to think it through, but that she had to know how Layton felt towards her.

Layton still wasn't sold that this was the answer to his predicament. A part of that had to do with him still being unsure about the nature of his feelings for Emmy. Because deep down, he wondered why thoughts of Emmy led to thoughts of Claire. And why had he said Claire's name...?

Henry, oblivious to Layton's pondering, checked his watch and seeing the appropriate time, walked up to the door and knocked exactly eight times.

The door clicked and whirred and to Layton's great surprise, spat out a sliding puzzle. Henry proceeded to move the tiny squares, this way and that.

"You're not the only one who loves puzzles, Hershel," he said, lining up the squares in a way that the engravings on their surface didn't match up. "Mr. Nando just happens to have an affinity for mind twisters. The answer is never straightforward with that man. Just how he likes to play people."

When Henry had finished, the puzzle looked even more jumbled than before in Layton's eyes, but the door made a happy beeping sound and the lock unhinged.

"I see," said Layton, wondering how Henry knew how to arrange the puzzle, and followed him inside. "It's a little unorthodox, but interesting nonetheless."

They entered a dark and very bland hallway. At the end Layton could see another door, with light seeping through the bottom crack. He reached for the handled, but a hand shot out and stopped him.

Henry shook his head and pointed to the left, at the wall. "This is the door we want Hershel."

Layton squinted, but could make out the faint outlines of a door that nearly blended right into the wall. Henry cracked it open and the two men stepped inside.

"What's behind the other door?"

"Another door," said Henry simply. "And behind that door is another door, and if you open that door you'll encounter another and so on so forth."

"That's odd," Layton remarked. This door led to an open space, set up like an office. He and Henry helped themselves to a seat closest to a curtained room.

"That's Mr. Nando for you," Henry groaned, and stretched out in the chair. He still looked hopelessly exhausted. "I hope this won't be a long wait."

"How long is it usually?"

"Depends," said Henry. "If Mr. Nando has a game plan ready for you or not."

Nando seemed pretty comfortable when he'd approached Layton and Randall at the Barthalul ball, so he had to suspect that the man already had his 'game plan' in mind by feeling the Professor out in the crowded situation.

"I hope Randall and Angela find something useful in Coates files," said Layton, trying to pass the time, and not think about Luke and Emmy, whose train was probably somewhere in the countryside by now.

"There's a lot of junk to sort through. Coates had a lot of things covered up I believe. He had some powerful friends." Henry yawned. "I do hope they find something we can use."

He considered telling Henry about Emmy knowing Warren Coates. But the whole incident was too fresh in his mind, and he was deeply hurt at the fact that Emmy had kept this important information from him for so long. He also found it unnerving that her last interactions with him had been fourteen years ago, as she'd said.

_Fourteen years. She would not have been much older than Luke at the time…._

His thoughts were interrupted by the swishing of curtains, and Henry motioned for Layton to enter the room.

"I wish I could come with you," he said. "But Mr. Nando specifically told me he would like to speak with you alone. I'm not about to argue with him."

"Thank you, for everything Henry," Layton readjusted his top hat, and taking a deep breath, went to meet Isaac Nando for a second time.

\-\-\

The room behind the curtain reminded Layton of his own office after Rosa had swept over it. Books and many trinkets lined the shelves, and in the middle sat a desk where the familiar face of Isaac Nando was waiting.

"Top Hat," he said, stressing the "t" and "h" in that low grumbling voice of his. "Oh, yes I remember you from the ball. So you're the professor everyone's been talking about."

"Mr. Nando," said Layton walking away from the doorway. "It's a pleasure to make our acquaintance official."

"Take a seat, Mr. Layton," Nando sat back, and even behind the glasses, Layton felt the man sizing him up. "It's nice to meet a friend of Mr. Ledore's."

He settled himself in the chair, and looked over the man. He still wore his sunglasses, but had exchanged his white suit for a dress shirt and tie.

"Care for some tea?" he said, pulling an electric kettle off the ground along with two cups.

Before Layton could even answer Nando poured him one.

"Thank you, but I was really wondering what you could tell me about the fifth Barthalul artifact."

A grin formed on Nando's face and he leaned closer to his guest. "You're straight to the point Layton. I like that. I have things to tell, but jumping into such a serious talk before we really become acquainted…well, it would be rude for one thing. As you would put it, 'ungentlemanly'. And seeing as we were having such a nice chat yesterday night, I feel I should ask: was my money well spent on that event? Did you enjoy the Barthalul ball? Before all hell broke loose of course…."

"Yes, aside from the nightmare incident, everything was wonderful," said Layton.

"Of course it was, you had you're brunette with you."

Layton sensed what Nando was doing, trying to throw him off, find a weak point. Henry had warned about Nando's fondness for mind games, so Layton supposed he'd have to play along for a bit if he hoped to take this conversation anywhere.

"We had a good time."

"What was her name again? You're girl…Emmy, yeah that's it. But her last name was unusual. Started with an A, if I recall correctly…."

Layton cleared his throat, not liking the fact Nando knew Emmy's name –he hadn't mentioned it at the ball from his recollection. Knowing a man like Isaac Nando, he'd probably done some research on him.

"Do you have any idea what caused the nightmares at the ball?" he asked, getting the conversation back on track. "You said yourself that you paid for it."

"Now that's an interesting thing to consider isn't it? I don't know what ruined my ball, but whoever did it will pay dearly," Nando shot him a scowl. "Now where is Miss Emmy? I heard she was found in the exhibit this morning. The one where the artifact was stolen."

"I was hoping you could shed some light on that," said Layton. "She claims she followed a man matching your description into the museum."

"And you believe everything the woman tells you?" Nando sneered. "Well, of course you do. She's _your_ woman after all. From what I heard, she assaulted and stole an artifact from the leader of the expedition at the Akbandain Ruins. I'm funding that too, Mr. Layton, and neither I nor Miss Audrey Mildrew are happy with your assistant's last stunt. And I am not a person you want to upset."

"And I apologize for that. I promise Emmy will not cause any more trouble with Miss Mildrew."

"I should hope not," said Nando, with a light laugh. "Audrey is an intelligent woman, she knows what she wants and how to get it, although she may have underestimated Miss Emmy."

"There was always tension between the two." Layton figured he should point this out, in Emmy's defense.

Nando took a sip of tea. "Women are puzzling creatures… Speaking of which, you have a love of puzzles, correct? I'll give you one, Think of it as a gift."

Layton realized he had no say in the matter and nodded. Nando sat back in his chair and spread his arms to his office space. "You can tell a lot about a man by simply being aware. So tell me Layton, looking around, what can you tell about me?"

Layton took a moment to look around the room once more, taking in its spotless bookshelves, and ancient treasures, yet despite all the objects in the room, nothing really struck him as anything important to the man it belonged to. There was nothing personal here. Layton himself had all sorts of fun puzzles, and pictures Emmy had taken of their adventures, and pictures Luke had drawn somewhere under the pile of books and student reports.

"From this workspace alone, I would assume that you are a materialistic man Mr. Nando," said Layton. "However, this is but a ruse, as nothing in this room even belongs to you. You are a man who likes to have the upper hand, and the less that is known about you, the safer you are, which is evident in the fact that you wear sunglasses all the time, for the eyes can give away even the best of lies."

"So, I will draw to a conclusion that you are an idealist, which explains your interest in a philosopher like Barthalul, and you're love of mind games." Layton tipped his top hat, and sat back in the chair, studying Nando's reaction. "I would also like to think that by hiding yourself, you feel in control, either because you are an smart man or a man with insecurities."

Nando smiled, "My, my, Layton I am impressed. You have the deductive skills to live up to your reputation. However, I will challenge your findings. Why can't I be both an smart man and an insecure man?" He did not wait for a response. "Does insecurity not go hand in hand with the human condition? Do will all not feel insecure at times? Do we all not have the need to hide things? And by hiding what we feel is uncomfortable, even to ourselves, are we not smart men?"

"You see Layton, the truth will tear us apart if it gets in the wrong hands. Naturally we keep our insecurities hidden, our little secrets. So what is your secret Professor?" He felt Nando's hidden eyes dissecting him, for any clue to the latest puzzle at hand.

"From the way you constantly touch that top hat of yours I'd say it means something. A memento or gift perhaps? And you keep adjusting your jacket…is there something in your pocket Mr. Layton? There must be, because your eyes dart to the floor every time you do this."

Layton felt the bad sensation in his stomach grow. Nando was getting to him. He couldn't allow it. "What are you hiding Mr. Nando?"

"Wouldn't you just love to know," he sipped his tea. "Anyways, you're changing the subject, so I must be on the right track —Altava! Yes, that was her name. Emmy Altava!" Nando smirked. "See how you drop eye contact whenever she comes up. This is a woman problem, eh, Top Hat!"

The fact that Nando was picking this up, made Layton all the more uncomfortable. Had he really been that obvious? Adjusting his top hat and jacket where Claire's photo still resided? Flinching at the mention of Emmy?

"Something happened between you lot at the ball," Nando sat back, seemingly intrigued. "And I thought she just had a spat with Miss Mildrew over the artifact, but no…what did you do to her that riddens you with such guilt Layton?"

If Layton could not answer to Emmy, explain to her who Claire was, then he could never open up this man, and all his sly trickery.

"I made a mistake," he said simply, because it was the truth.

It had been a mistake to rush things with Emmy, to go to the ball when they should have been investigating the thievery. And a mistake to loose himself in what seemed like the perfect moment, when he clearly wasn't ready to move on. It was a mistake not to tell Emmy about Claire, to let her out of his sight during the ball, and then question her on Warren Coates. Maybe even sending her off to London was a mistake? Oh, the many mistakes in his life…

…to not have opened up his heart in that restaurant all those years ago. The day the first piece of his hopeful future came undone….

"We all make mistakes Layton. But its regret that eats away at the soul. So as advice from one smart and insecure man to another, mistakes are good, they are a part of life, but do not dwell on the regrets, and instead on what can be learned."

He did not know if Nando meant to help or not, but it did help a little. For the greatest mistake off all would be to lose a dear friend and assistant in this way. To repeat the same mistake of keeping his heart closed.

_Emmy._

He had to get to Emmy. He had to get to London, and make things right with her or at the very least try. And he had an idea of how, he always knew it was the only way, even Randall had tried to convince him, but now it was clear. Isaac Nando had said the truth had the power to tear a man apart in the wrong hands. _But what if it falls into the right hands?_ Telling Emmy _everything _was his only shot.

But first he needed to get what he came for.

"Now, I need to know where the fifth Barthalul artifact is."

"Alright, alright, you've humoured me Layton. So I will be honest and tell you that I have no ruddy clue as to where the last Barthalul artifact is."

Layton didn't react to this. He took a deep breath, knowing that Isaac Nando was still at his mind games. "Surely a man in your position hears many things. The late Warren Coates seemed to think so. If I'm not mistaken he came to you about the artifact before he passed."

Nando's grin widened and he let out a bellow of a laugh. "Warren Coates! Oh, Layton, you still have no idea about Coates do you? He was a liar and a cheat, even before his family tragedy! Yes, he helped me out from time to time in his days of bending the law as an attorney."

"He was so easy to figure out. It's rather simple to feel out the true essence of a man when he spends all his time under the influence. Not many barriers to contend with. But old Coates was a fool, disrespecting what he had. He cheated on his wife, more than she would ever come to know. Poor thing. And his daughter, no one knows what became of her. She left one day, surely sick of Daddy's abuse, and well…that's how the story goes anyhow."

"But you see Coates, he came to me looking to hire some men to steal the other artifacts from the dig site and museums," said Nando. "Sadly, before we could finalize an agreement the scum dropped dead."

"That seems rather convenient for you," said Layton.

"Hey, business is business," said Nando, "and I lost a customer who would pay well. To liver failure...though, I suppose that wasn't such a surprise."

"So Coates really was after the Barthalul artifacts…." A sinking feeling seeped into Layton that perhaps Mildrew was correct. _Maybe Emmy really is the thief, hired by Coates. _ But that was absolutely ridiculous…right?

"Coates had the artifact you are looking for," said Nando. "He's had it for years, and the knowledge of its whereabouts died along with him. Or so many believe."

This piqued Layton's interest once more, although he tried not to show it. "Coates told someone where he kept the Barthalul artifact?"

"We have to hope don't we?" said Nando. "Or the location and knowledge Barthalul set up for the world, a great game of mystery and puzzles, shall forever be lost." He went to pour more tea only to find the kettle bare.

"Who would he have told?"

"How am I supposed to know?!" said Nando with a grunt. "Anyhow, we've chatted a good while. I've given you enough favours for one day. And you've played my little talking game so very well, so kudos for that. Now off with you Top Hat, go get your woman back."

Layton stood and nodded politely before thanking Nando and exiting the room. There, he shook a napping Henry's shoulder and he led him back. His mind was reeling with questions.

"Did you get any leads on the fifth artifacts location?" asked Henry.

"According to Mr. Nando, it was in Warren Coates' possession last he heard. "

"Well, at least that's something."

Layton couldn't agree more, and hoped that Randall and Angela had found useful information on Warren Coates in the police files to point them in the right direction. Finding the last Barthalul artifact before the thieves was crucial if they ever hoped to solve the mystery.

The two men continued back through Nando's halls and into the streets of Monte d'Or. While the talk with Nando went better than he expected, Layton couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit off about the mob leader.

"Henry," he said. "I thought I handled Mr. Nando quite well, but, I still feel as if I've been toyed with."

Henry faced him and sighed. "Welcome to the paradox that is Isaac Nando."

\-\-\

**25 hours ago**

Layton and Henry returned to the Ascot estate feeling drained. However, Layton was still eager to see what Randall and Angela had discovered in the Coates files, and get back to London to make amends.

There was a somber air, when the two men stepped into the living room, where piles of paper were skewed about. Randall and Angela sat quietly on a sofa, with a small stack of papers in hand.

"Did you find anything on Coates?" asked Layton. "Nando seems to think he had the last Barthalul artifact, and there could be a clue to its location."

"Hersh," said Randall. "You might want to sit down."

"I am perfectly fine to stand, Randall."

"Hershel, you need to sit down for this one, okay." Randall was a tad forceful with his words, but got the point across. Layton took a seat in the adjacent sofa and was joined by Henry.

Both Randall and Angela wore grim expressions, and Layton felt he would not like what they were about to say.

"What did you find?" he said.

"Warren Coates was involved in… a lot of things," said Angela calmly. "Some of them involved favours for men in trouble with the law."

"Yes, I remember being told he was an attorney," said Layton.

"He also had a drinking problem," Randall said, "and was known for violent tendencies, especially after the death of his wife, Mei. Before that, the two had some marriage issues."

"Nando informed me that Coates was cheating."

"Apparently there were some problems with his daughter after that," said Angela. "The girl ran away before anything was dealt with. Mr. Coates spent the rest of his life searching for her."

"And Barthalul's Door of course," added Henry.

Randall cleared his throat, "We didn't really find anything useful until Ange stumbled upon this." He handed Layton the papers in his lap.

"It's a will," Layton realized after a quick glance. "Warren Coates' will."

"Hersh, you'll notice that everything the man owns goes to a sole beneficiary," said Randall, as Layton looked down the list. "I called the appointed attorney for the distribution of the will, and he said that Coates had changed it just a week before he died, from his daughter's name to—"

"E. Altava." There was no mistaking it. Everything that was once Warren Coates, now belonged to an _E. Altava_ according to this document. Layton felt his stomach tighten.

"Emmy…how can this be?" Layton continued to scan the document, wishing that he was just reading it wrong.

"We haven't said anything to Sheffield yet," said Randall. "Ange and I couldn't believe it either. For a moment we actually thought that she may be involved in the robberies after all."

"But something didn't sit right," Angela came in quickly before Layton could feel too betrayed by the theory. "Why would a man who had been searching for his daughter for years suddenly give his life savings to a stranger? If you love someone, you'll wait for them, until the day you're reunited," Angela gave Randall a warm smile and squeezed his hand.

"So I called the attorney back," said Randall, pulling his gaze away from his wife's, "and he said that although Coates changed the name, that was all he changed. There was no contact information for his daughter –obviously– and no new contact information for the new beneficiary."

"We did some more digging and found an answer, but you won't like it Hershel." Angela looked up at him sadly. "If you didn't want to be found, what is the easiest way to hide?"

"Angela, I…," Layton already knew the answer, but he refused to accept it.

"Mei Coates, wasn't always Mei Coates," said Randall, handing Layton another piece of paper, a newspaper clipping this time.

It was from the obituaries, notifying the death of Mei Coates. "In loving memory of Mei Coates née…."

…_Altava._

The word dropped off Layton's tongue.

For a very long moment, nothing felt right.

\-\-\

**Present**

Layton continued to drive. The rain picked up now that he was only an hour or so out from London.

He wondered if anyone else knew. Because if everything of Coates now belonged to her, then that included the Barthalul artifact. And someone wanted those artifacts very badly….

_My dear, the things you get into._

A few tears formed in Layton's eyes with thoughts of Emmy. Emmy, who was always so strong. Emmy, who _had_ to be strong. Emmy, who was wearing down his already beaten heart.

And a gentleman never makes a scene in public. But he was alone.

It was okay to cry.


	15. The Storm

**Author's Note**: Chapter 15 is finally here! This one's a milestone for me. Upon the original conception for this story, I figured it would take about fifteen chapters to tell. Boy, was I wrong ... we still have so much story ahead of us! So go enjoy it!

* * *

Chapter 15: The Storm

The rain came suddenly, and without mercy. In minutes the streets of London were drenched yet again, but it was already after dark and most were tucked away safely in their homes, in awe yet again of Mother Nature's display.

However, two figures found themselves caught up in the awful weather, struggling in a game of tug-o-war with the wind that had its sights on their yellow umbrella

"Why didn't we take a bus back?" Luke whined keeping his head low as the wind and rain picked up in a swoop, nearly stripping the umbrella from Emmy's hands. "And why did you only bring one umbrella?"

"I wanted to walk by the museum and check on Scotland Yard's guards. Besides Luke, walking is good for you." She managed to win her fight with the wind, pulling the umbrella from its grasp. "And this is the only umbrella I own. Just be thankful it's big enough to cover the two of us."

"If that's the case, then why am I still getting wet?" Luke grabbed his cap to prevent it from flying away. "And, I'm pretty sure walking in the middle of a rainstorm is not good for you."

Admittedly, Emmy knew that this was not one of her brighter decisions. The umbrella was getting more air time than shielding them from the downpour. By the time they got to the Professor's they would both be soaked to the bone and frozen. The pajamas Emmy was carrying in a separate bag would probably be sopping too.

_I don't know who would be crazy enough to pull a robbery in this weather anyway_, she grumbled as the London museum came into view.

She couldn't see anything around its perimeter with the sheets of water. What looked like a few police cruisers sat positioned in the parking lot, and surely the officers on duty would patrol inside given the unruly conditions.

As they approached the parking lot, a black van with tinted windows pulled out suddenly, nearly hitting her and Luke. It screeched to a halt beforehand, its breaks grinding on the wet cement. It did succeed at spooking Emmy, and allowing the wind to rip the umbrella from her arms. Luckily it caught under the van's front right tire.

"Watch it ass—" Emmy stopped herself from cussing, realizing that Luke was in her presence. She dragged him away from the stopped vehicle, and bent down for her umbrella –flipping the unseen driver off with a discrete, but rather rude hand gesture along the way.

The van simply drove off, so the two continued on their journey, still some distance from the Professor's house.

"This part of town is usually nice," said Luke, looking over the many small shops, all of them closed and locked up for the night. The protective cages around the stores gave them a sad and empty feeling, especially under such a stormy sky.

"I think we'll need another hot chocolate by the time we get there," Emmy shivered, her lemon jacket offering little relief to the cold. _Luke must be freezing_, she glanced down at the poor boy. He clung desperately to her arm as they entered a wind tunnel.

The strength of the surge was enough to once again catch the umbrella, and this time it succeeded in turning it inside out. Emmy pulled down hard, and met the wind head on, flipping the umbrella to its proper position. She led Luke into an alley, where the buildings provided more cover.

"I could go for a cup of tea actually…," Luke's teeth chattered. "I'd even drink Earl Grey without milk or sugar. Do you think the Professor would believe I actually said that?"

Emmy figured he was probably missing Layton by now. Even she had to admit it would be nice to have him right at this very moment….

_He surely wouldn't have let us run off in this storm,_ she thought, knowing how stupid it was for her and Luke to be caught up in the bad weather. If they both caught colds from this, she would be responsible. And disappointing the Professor again would be the last thing she needed.

_ Why can't I just make the right decision for once in my life?! _She screamed in her head. _I always have to mess every—_

"Emmy," Luke tugged on her sleeve and pointed to road. "Is that the same van that nearly hit us?"

She peered into the blankets of rain. Sure enough there was the black van, cruising slowly down the street, as if it was watching for something…

…or someone.

"Come on," Emmy took Luke's hand and pulled him back onto the sidewalk. _The Professor's house isn't too far._

"I think they're following us," Luke whipped his head back. "Emmy, they're following us!"

"Keep moving and don't look back," she picked up her pace. Luke was right; the van was definitely tailing them. And this area was abandoned at night.

The van pulled ahead, hitting a puddle and spraying Luke and Emmy as it passed before stopping at the corner of the road. The side door swung open and three burly looking men clambered out.

"We don't want any trouble, gentlemen," Emmy stepped protectively in front of Luke, glaring at the hooded men. All of them were much larger than her, but she was confident she could take the thugs, should it come to that.

"'Don't want any trouble'," one of the men mocked. "I've seen we've found our manners now have we, little miss?"

Another man shot them the finger as he walked past, chuckling to himself. "A please would be nice."

The third man advanced closest. "We just want to talk, that's all. If you get in the van nicely, then no one needs to get hurt."

Emmy eyed the three cautiously. She wasn't fooled, they had her and Luke surrounded. Boxed in.

"We can talk right here," she said, closing her umbrella, and throwing her bag aside. "The two of us are already soaked, and I have a feeling our conversation won't last long."

"If that's the way you feel…then no, it won't," said the man on her left with a snarl and he charged at her, arms outstretched.

Emmy instinctively shoved Luke out of the way and ducked under her attacker, turning and retaliating with a kick to his side. She spun around and caught a second man with a blow to the head with the umbrella, and proceeded to dodge a wild punch thrown by the last man, hitting him in the groin, and then finishing it with an elbow to the face. As the first man slowly recovered, she gave him a good old roundhouse kick to get her point across.

All three men lay groaning in the mud. Triumphant, Emmy straightened herself out, tucking a wet strand of hair behind her ear and looked in Luke's direction. Only the boy was missing.

Panic set in. _Where is he?!_ Her heart raced and her breath caught up in her throat.

"Luke?" she called, squinting. Everything was so unclear with the heavy rain….

"My, my, that's very impressive."

She whirled around to face a fourth man, this one lanky and tall, with a muffled and squirming Luke in one arm, and in the other… something that looked like a—

_He's a got gun._ The realization shot a wave of nervousness through her. She could handle an armed opponent it was just … trickier. Emmy would have to make her next move carefully.

"Boss told me not to underestimate you, you know," said Luke's captor. "And I must say, Miss Altava, you're a force to be reckoned with."

Luke pulled away from the man's grasp, "Emmy, help!" he cried, before a hand clamped over his mouth once more.

"Let him go," Emmy growled. A fury swelled inside of her at the sight of Luke in danger. She felt the urge to spring at him and give the man a piece of her mind for threatening a little boy, despite her clear disadvantage. Jumping into anything would be foolish, and she or Luke would only end up hurt. Emmy supposed she could try talking things out. "I swear you'll regret it if anything—"

He pressed the gun to the boy's temple, effectively shutting her up. "You're in no position to argue, you know. Now, you will get in the van and answer our questions, and nothin' bad will happen. And drop the weapon."

Emmy looked at the battered umbrella in her hands, barely a threatening 'weapon' compared to his firearm. Nonetheless, she tossed it aside.

There was something about this man. Something about him struck her as familiar, but she couldn't quite pinpoint it…couldn't quite see him clearly enough. But the look of terror on Luke's face reminded her that she had to handle this carefully. He was at risk here.

"Fine," she said and cautiously approached him, wracking her brain for a clever way to strike without endangering herself or Luke. The three large thugs picked themselves off the ground, and the one Emmy elbowed in the face –now sporting a black eye- begrudgingly opened the door for her.

Inside the van were tools of all sorts: pickaxes, shovels and brushes, everything you would need for an archeological expedition. A layer of dirt and dust seemed to have been permanently caked onto the van's floor, and in the far corner sat a box, and nestled in it was…

"The Barthalul artifact!" Emmy gasped. "You're the thieves! That's why you pulled out of the museum. Making your get away…."

With the dim light from the van Emmy could now make out the lanky man's face. And the realization made her sick to the stomach, because this was definitely not a good thing.

"Hey, you're that guy from the Akbadain dig site aren't you? Donny, righ—"

Something smashed into the back of Emmy's head. She caught a glimpse of her umbrella flying overhead, catching the wind and tumbling down the street, before she hit the ground hard. Large hands grabbed her and hoisted her to her feet.

"You're the dig site's crew…," she mumbled, a little disoriented from the blow. "…you're Mildrew's crew!" Emmy struggled, attempting to pull herself from the men's grasps. This resulted in a punch to the gut that sent her doubled over.

"You were right, you know," said Donny, holding Luke closer. "We can talk right here, right now!"

She received another hit across the face, before being dragged into an alley. Emmy fought back ferociously, but every jerky movement was met with a blow from her larger captors. They threw her harshly against the wall, and Emmy groaned as her camera pouch bashed into her back and she heard the sound of plastic shatter.

"How do you like that?" said one of the men, knocking the wind out of her with a solid hit.

They shoved a gasping Emmy to her knees, two men holding her arms and the third –the brute with the black eye- circling maliciously.

Donny walked into the alley, with a struggling Luke. The boy was in tears, pleading with them to not hurt her.

"Shut up, brat!" he snapped, and turned to Emmy. "Now, Altava, our employer has a way of doing things, you know. Wanted to send you another note, even though you'd ignore it like the others. Likes to have fun, our employer does. But I'm tired of playin'," Donny leaned over and glared at Emmy with a wild look in his eyes. "We got the artifacts just like we're told, and I ain't gonna wait around any longer. Boss won't be happy, she likes the game… but someone's gotta come askin' eventually you know, and heck, we're in the neighborhood."

He leaned closer, brushing her hair back with the barrel of the gun. "So be a dear, and tell us where Coates hid it?"

Emmy glared at him, "Never."

The butt of the gun struck her hard in the face. She heard Luke whimper, and her eyes watered. The world spun in a sickening way, and Emmy's mouth tasted like metal.

"Where is the artifa—Argg!" Donny stepped back, wiping the spit mixed with blood from his face. Emmy sneered and spat again at his shoes.

"You think this is funny?!" Donny cried, backing away and reaffirming his grip on Luke. "Someone ought to teach you some respect, you know."

On cue the man with the black eye came at her, with a solid hit. He then continued punching and kicking and cursing her with words she wished Luke couldn't hear. And she heard the poor boy crying, begging the bad men to stop. But Emmy took every hit with a will of iron; she refused to cry out, she would not fall, not to them.

"You think you can best us?" the man with the black eye screeched. "I'll make you cry bitch—"

Emmy yelped from a brutal strike to her side, losing her breath yet again. Waves of agony shot through her as she tried to regain air, but breathing came in short hiccups, and every gasp only worsened the pain spreading up her side.

But she regained her composure, refusing to slide off her knees, to be knocked to the ground.

"S-stop it! Stop h-hurting her! Emmy, j-just tell them what they w-want to know! M-make them stop!"

Luke. Yelling out between sobs.

"I'd take your boy's advice," said Donny. "Tell us."

She would never talk. No matter how close she came to losing consciousness in the spinning of the world. No matter how badly her chest hurt and it burned to draw in breath. Emmy would not let them take the information from her. She would not fall. Would not cower. She'd never cower again.

"This is traumatizing the boy," Donny's voice sounded further, smaller. "Life is cruel you know! Well, of course you do…but in the end, whatever happens, to yourself, or the brat, or that professor character of yours…it'll be _your fault_ you stupid little—"

_'It's your fault! It's all your damn fault!'_

Emmy crumpled, the men letting her drop to the ground.

_I-I'm s-sorry…_

She tried to rise, only to be knocked back down, by feet and hands and the relentless rain.

_'Why couldn't you just leave things be!? Why couldn't you leave it be…'_

Donny was still yelling, but it came in incoherent bursts. Luke cried in a frantic state, so scared and unsure of what was happening. He might of called for her, but she wasn't sure. Emmy really wasn't aware of them anymore….

_S-stop it!_

…if the bad men were still kicking her, rage stricken and mad, she couldn't feel it. No… She felt so weird. Kind of all light and…numb….

_ Please stop…_

… "I can handle it from here boys". A faint voice, and the splatter off three pairs of shoes exiting the alley. And a terrified young voice cries out….

_I'm s-sorry… I didn't mean to…I'm s-so, sorry…_

… "Emmy! Emmy get up! Please get up!"…

_'Please s-stop…y-you're hurting me…'_

"Shut up!" A strike, and a child's whimper. Luke's blurry form slumped in the bad man's arm…

_Please…._

…his face pops into her head. Warren Coates, the man she despises with all her being, her own—

"Look at you, Altava!" Donny's voice was closer, bigger. "A couple hits is all it takes to knock you down! You've got no more fight left, you know."

…the face changes. A different man enters her mind, one with warm eyes. A welcoming smile…

_Professor._

"So tell me already!—"

_Professor, I'll save Luke._

"—Where is the Barthalul artifact?!"

_ I promise you, Professor. You sent Luke to London so he'd be safe. I'll save him, no matter what…I promise._

Emmy rose shakily to her feet. The strength to stand, to ignore the hectic signals her beaten body sent through her, she did not know where it came from. But something deep within her ignited, a driving force, and when she saw Luke's tiny body in Donny's arms she charged at him with everything she had left.

And she didn't slow down. Not in the split second it took the man to throw the boy aside. To raise the gun.

A shot fired off, and something whizzed dangerously by Emmy's head as she tackled the man to the ground. He hit the concrete with a sickening crack, and she raised her fist and punched him square in the jaw. And she came down on him once more, hitting him again and again with all her hatred and all her pain, and nothing in her life had ever felt so good, so liberating….

"Who's the coward now?" Emmy cried, throwing another satisfying blow to his face. "Who's weak now?"

"Emmy?"

"How do you like it?! How do you like it you bastard!"

"Emmy…"

Luke stirred and weakly raised his head.

"Emmy, stop it!"

She quit hitting Donny, and looked down at his mangled face, then her bruised and bloody knuckles….

_Oh god, what have I done…I'm just like him.! Just like him. Just like…._

"Emmy, I can hear them coming"_._

She looked back at Luke. He was right. The other men would return with all the noise. They had to get away. Now.

Adrenaline pumping through her, Emmy scooped Luke up in her arms and sprinted down the alley, every step sending an agonizing jolt through her, but she had to get them to safety.

"Your neck…" Luke touched her lightly and it stung. He pulled his hand away, his small fingers dabbled in red. "Emmy… you're bleeding."

Emmy ignored his statement and continued to run and run until her vision went funny, and she wasn't sure which way was up, and which was down, or if it really mattered in the end. She just couldn't stop, not until they were safe.

But Emmy's excitement high was fading fast, and with it, the realization of her sorrowful state came full swing. The unevenness of her frantic breaths. The sharp pain in her abdomen. The dreamlike state of…everything.

Her steps grew lazy and she swayed, catching herself on someone's fence post. Emmy no longer knew where they were, or how far the Professor's house was. She brushed the graze wound on her neck. It wasn't so bad, really….

Everything felt so heavy all of the sudden, not just Luke in her arms, but her entire being.

The boy half fell out of her grasp. He landed clumsily on his feet and turned to her, his eyes red and puffy.

"We…we should keep moving." Luke took a few steps forward, sloshing in the puddles that flooded the sidewalk. When she did not come, he turned around, fresh tears in his eyes. "Emmy, come on, they could be after us."

Holding herself against the fence, and struggling to stand she met him with lost eyes.

"Emmy…"

He looked so afraid. So sad.

"…did you hear me?"

_But safe_. The thought filled her with warmth, although she felt so cold.

"A-are you okay, Emmy? "

"See Professor, I promised…." The words came as slurs from her cracked lips. Her knees buckled and gave in. Emmy hit the pavement limp.

A confused eleven-year-old boy cried out for her in terror. The lady in yellow did not answer.

In the distance thunder rumbled, and the rain let up a little.


	16. The End?

**Author's Note**: Apologies for leaving you guys with that cliffhanger for so long. Here's a much needed update!

* * *

Chapter 16: The End?

"Emmy?"

Luke stood over the woman's still form. He'd been standing there for what felt like the longest time, waiting.

Just waiting for something to happen. For anything to happen. For her to get up and punch him in the arm and ruffle his hair, and gloat over giving him the biggest scare of his life.

Luke would pretend to be extremely angry with her little prank, and refuse to talk to her, although he would feel nothing but relieved.

Because that's all this was…one of her bad taste jokes. Emmy was just pulling his leg, and any second now she would spring up and maybe pretend to be a zombie and chase after him, and talk about eating brains for a kick. Emmy was weird like that.

One time she pretended to be asleep on the office couch when he came home from school, and a similar situation ensued.

Any second now….

The rain picked up again, falling even harder than before. Luke shivered as the frigid water spread over his skin. He sneezed.

"This isn't funny, Emmy," said Luke, clinging to the smallest of hope that this was her getting back at him for bringing up his 'time of the month' question a few days ago. Because she'd looked rather embarrassed when he'd asked, and she hadn't been in the greatest of moods this past week….

"Please…" tears formed in his eyes again, because in his heart Luke knew that this wasn't a joke. This was very real. And he had no idea what to do.

He knelt down beside her, watching her sides rise and fall in shallow, jerky movements. She'd hit the ground quite hard. Luke hoped she was okay.

He nudged her gently. Nothing. He shook her, but she remained unresponsive. "Come on, Emmy, get up!"

His thoughts went to Loosha, the brave water mammal that had saved his hometown when Descole attacked. Loosha had fought bravely against the scientist's vile machines, but at the cost of her own life. Loosha saved everyone and then she….

"No." Luke looked down at Emmy, his eyes blurred from a mixture of tears and rain. She may have fought the thugs, and taken a beating to save him, but Emmy was strong. She was going to be okay. "Get up! P-please, get up… You c-can't leave, you can't…"

_Die._

The nightmare came back to Luke.

He didn't really remember much about the dream, as he'd tried very hard to forget about it. There was something about a large door in a cavern…and a dark fog… …and Emmy fighting a monster… and the Professor was nowhere in sight, but he could hear him crying out…then Emmy fell, and she didn't get up, and Luke knew in the dream that it was because of him. She'd tried to save him, but the darkness spread.…

"Y-you promised me Emmy! You p-promised you wouldn't do anything s-stupid. Y-you promised you wouldn't get hurt!"

Luke cried, dropping to his knees and shaking her in vain. An onslaught of thoughts rampaged through his head, but he couldn't hold onto anything for very long. All he knew was that he wished the Professor was there.

The Professor was an adult, a true gentleman. He would know what to do at a time like this.

Luke on the other hand, was just a boy, a gentleman in training. It was the duty of a gentleman to help a lady, especially a lady in need….

And now Emmy was hurt and Luke didn't know what to do he—

"My fault…it's all my fault…"

"Emmy?"

"Coward. I deserve this. I deserve it…"

"Emmy, did you say something?" Luke mumbled, and with a shaking hand pulled a mess of matted brown hair out of her face. In the dark and the rain, it was difficult to see her clearly but he could make out her lips, moving ever so slightly. He leaned closer to hear her better.

"Don't hurt me…please? I d-don't like it..."

"I won't hurt you. It's me, Luke! We're safe for the moment. You lost those bad men."

"I didn't mean it…h-honest."

"But they could find us any minute now! We have to move! Emmy, c'mon," Luke tugged at her arm, but it went slack.

"Still, it's my fault…"

"Emmy, don't worry about breaking the promise. I don't really care…I was just worried. I want you to be okay."

"My fault…I deserve this…"

"Stop saying that! It's not your fault and no one deserves this! You were protecting us—"

"Coward. Run. Cowards run…"

"Can you even hear me?"

"My fault…I deserve this. Coward…"

"Emmy?"

Luke sighed, and brushed more hair out of Emmy's face while she continued to ramble. He'd heard before about people acting weirdly after a traumatic experience. Her fight with those men had been pretty bad.

He waved a hand in front of her half open eyes, in an attempt to break her trance. Emmy blinked a couple of times, but continued to stare aimlessly at the other side or the street.

Luke followed her lost gaze, taking in his surroundings for the first time. They had stumbled into a neighbourhood, and not just any neighbourhood….

The Professor's house was only a block around the corner.

Luke's lip trembled and he was about to be taken by another wave of tears, when he noticed something caught up in the sewer drain a few feet away. Cautiously, he plucked the battered frame of the umbrella from the gutter and shook it open.

Emmy's poor umbrella hung limp and broken, and he waddled over to its owner, in a similar sorrowful state. The umbrella offered little protection to either of them.

_Of course it had to be yellow, _Luke thought.

Emmy loved yellow. That was something Luke had noticed very early in their friendship. He'd asked her once why she loved the colour so much, and she had said, "Yellow is a happy colour. It makes me feel all warm and good on the inside. Why shouldn't you love something that makes you happy?"

Luke normally agreed with that statement, but in this very moment, yellow was tainted. He did not like how the muddy yellow fabric hung off the umbrella's bare frame. Or how the yellow trench coat clung to Emmy, making her seem so small and helpless.

He never thought that yellow could be so depressing.

"I kn-know we fight sometimes, a-and I think you can be really mean," he sniffed, "b-but I know it's because you c-care, and if you get up, you can tease me as much as you like…", Luke choked up, his eyes welling yet again in tears, "And I s-say I'm not the second assistant, b-but that's not true. I am the s-second assistant…but only to you, Emmy!"

He lowered his head to better hear her whispers, hoping for something besides a slurred, "my fault." When he was met with nothing more than her incoherent doubts, Luke decided it was time to take action.

He tossed the umbrella away, and hooked his arms under Emmy's. Luke proceeded to drag her down the street –an awkward task as she was much taller than him and dead weight. The trek to the Professor's house would be long and tiresome in this manner, but Luke had no other choice.

_A true gentleman would never let a friend down_, he thought.

As he continued to back up with an odd waddle, Luke's foot slipped off the sidewalk's curb. He yelped in surprise, losing his stance in the process, and tumbled forward, landing on top of Emmy.

A sharp gasp escaped her, and Luke was shoved –or rather, harshly thrown- onto the street. He picked himself up off the ground to face Emmy, who was now bolted upright, and wheezing.

"Luke?"

A sound halfway between a squeal and a sob came from the boy as he jumped on her, wrapping her up in a giant hug. "Emmy, you're awake! You're—"

"Ow, ow, not so tight," she pushed him off, and there was a sharpness to her voice, but Luke didn't care. He was glad to see her up.

She still appeared a little dazed, touching the graze wound on her neck. It wasn't bleeding as badly as before, but her fingers were still came away bloody. Emmy stared at him with some uncertainty. Her expression was more that of a lost kitten than her usual air of lion-like confidence. If their situation had been different Luke would have found it very comical.

"We'll get a plaster on it as soon as we get to the Professor's house. It's really close," Luke said, with more urgency in his voice. The men could still be looking for them. "C-can you stand?"

Emmy simply nodded, and Luke practically had to lift her to her feet –easier said than done given his smaller stature. He stayed only a few steps ahead as she hobbled slowly behind him.

She stopped every few steps to catch her breath and stare off at the empty road, to which Luke reminded her of the importance that they kept moving. Emmy would blink some rain out of her eyes in response, and take another glance behind before carrying on.

\-\-\

The rain toned down by the time they arrived at the Professor's house. It was still putting up an impressive show, but it seemed like the soft sprinkling of a warm shower compared to the buckets that had been dumped earlier.

Emmy was still rather out of it, and Luke had to ask her three times for the spare key, before she half-wittedly dug it from her pocket. Even after he'd unlocked the door, Luke had to lead her into the house. If the decision had been up to Emmy, she probably would have stayed on the porch all night, looking absentmindedly for something that just wasn't there.

Luke sighed in relief once safe inside. He pulled off his soggy shoes and socks and slumped to the floor, thankful to finally be out of the storm.

Emmy remained in a statue-like stance at the doorway. Her arms cradled her sides and she was dripping wet and shaking. She turned her head to take in the Professor's home. Her eyes imitated those of a small child, filled with wonder and fear.

Never in his life did Luke think Emmy could act in such a helpless manner, and he found it rather worrisome. She hadn't uttered a word since he'd tripped over her. Maybe she still wasn't over her initial shock?

Luke rung some water from his cap and gave a loud sneeze. "Excuse me," he said, wiping his nose on his sleeve, as quite frankly, he was too exhausted to care how ungentlemanly the action was.

"You should change into something warm," said Emmy, although she was looking elsewhere –at the far wall or the staircase perhaps? "I'll be in the washroom."

He nodded and started upstairs while she trudged through the Professor's living room, tracking mud and water all over the floor. Emmy had not bothered to remove her boots, and from her awkward gait, and light groans Luke worried she would fall over again.

He threw his wet clothes in the bathtub, and changed into some warm pajamas. A quilt on his bed caught Luke's eye, and seeing as Emmy was had nothing dry to wear he figured it was better than nothing. He grabbed it along with a couple of towels and had just reached for the first aid kit when a loud crash followed by a thunk echoed from downstairs.

"Emmy, are you okay!?" Luke shot down the staircase, following the mud tracks into the Professor's kitchen. His response was a stream of colourful language, some of which the boy had never heard before. He rounded the corner, into a narrow hallway with a closet and the washroom.

"Fu—" Emmy bit her tongue when she saw Luke. She was sprawled on the floor, tangled in her jacket, and looked absolutely miserable. However, she appeared alert once more.

"What happened?" he said, dropping his armful of supplies in the hall.

"Slipped, trying to undress. Crap—" Emmy's body jolted when she tried to pull her arms through her jacket.

Luke helped her to a sitting position and out of the jacket. She let out a groan, and peeled up her blouse. Now in the better lighting Luke could see Emmy was quite ruffed up from the fight. Her face looked a little swollen as did her right hand –firmly holding her left side. There were red stains on her jacket and blouse from the wound on her neck, and Luke noticed a bit of blood on her lips. None of this even came close to comparing with nasty looking bruise forming on Emmy's left side just below her bra. She winced and pulled her blouse back down.

"Maybe you should go to the hospital," said Luke.

"No, I'm fine," she closed her eyes tight. "The Professor will be here in a few hours anyway… just hand me the kit, and get some ice."

Luke followed her orders, and went to the kitchen. Before he was out of earshot, he heard Emmy curse again, and mutter something about there not being any aspirin. He made a quick detour upstairs, and returned to her with two bags of ice, and a little something extra.

He set the stuffed bear on Emmy's lap. "My teddy always cheers me up when I'm not feeling well. I hope he makes you better."

She attempted a smile and placed one ice pack under her shirt and rested the other on her cheek. He noticed a sloppily placed bandage on her neck. "That's sweet of you," she croaked.

Emmy's eyes wandered to her yellow jacket. "Luke, my camera," she motioned towards the pouch on her belt.

Luke nodded and pulled a battered camera out. He handed it to Emmy. She flipped the camera about in inspection, turning its dials, and tapping the cracked lens. Luke watched her flick the power switch on and off to no avail.

"I think it's broken," he said.

The comment didn't faze her. Emmy continued to hit the switch, perhaps hoping that it would miraculously bring her beloved camera back to life.

On and off. On and off. On and off.

Her eyes got that faraway look again. Luke tapped her shoulder lightly, hoping to regain her focus. "Hey, Emmy don't zone out."

"It's cold in here."

Luke found the house rather warm, but Emmy was still in her wet clothing, and had ice packed on her, so he figured the fact that she had a chill wasn't too concerning. "You can change. I can leave or help you if you need. I won't look, I promise!" he added that thought quickly. "You can probably borrow one of the Professor's night shirts."

"That alright," she said, her eyes growing heavy, and she set her dead camera aside. "I'm actually kind of comfortable here."

Luke grabbed the quilt from the hallway. "Are you in pain?" He knew this was a stupid question, but he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"It's not too bad," said Emmy.

He pulled the blanket over her, and snuggled into her side. "Does it hurt more than the scrapes from your fall off the wall?" Luke asked, tracing over the scars on her arm, now so faint they had nearly disappeared.

"Yes," her head drooped. "But … it's a different kind of pain."

"Emmy," Luke shook her, and she snapped back.

"I feel sleepy," she said. "But I don't think I should sleep. I…I hit my head.

"Okay." Luke leaned closer, feeling rather drowsy himself. He then spat out the first thought that came to mind. "Tell me a story."

"I don't know any stories, Luke."

"Then make one up. It will help you stay awake at least."

Emmy looked up at the ceiling, her gaze wandering again. For a moment Luke thought she would argue about how stupid the idea was. Instead she sighed, and readjusted herself into a more comfortable position.

"Don't laugh. I'm not good at this."

"I won't."

And he sounded sincere, so she took a pained breath and began.

"Okay, well…there was this little girl, I guess. And she lived with her mum and her dad. Umm… her mum and dad loved each other very much, …and their daughter. Of course. And the little girl…she…she…she really a…Luke, this is terrible."

"Keep going," he said. "You're doing great."

Emmy sighed and continued. "The little girl…she loved her parents." There was a dreamy tone to her voice, and a smile spread across her lips, and she went on at a smoother pace. "But her father was a busy man. He tried to keep his work life from that of his family, but clients wanted more and more, and he often had to spend his off hours on the phone or meeting with other men."

"Every now and again, he would take his daughter away from that life, and to a cottage in the countryside. At night they would often go out under a clear sky to see the stars. And do you know what he told her under the stars?"

Emmy reached her good arm into the air, pointing out a few blotches and water stains on the ceiling. Luke wondered that if in her delusional state, she really believed they were the faraway worlds in the sky. She didn't wait for a response to her question.

"He told her: 'I will love you, forever and always'. And the little girl took it to heart, because she was still very young, and it came from her daddy."

"They lived a happy life."

Emmy's smile turned to a frown, and Luke swore she was going to cry. "Then the little girl grew up. She began to wonder why her father spent more and more time at work and never spoke of it, or why her mother often bickered with him."

"And one day she saw something she wasn't meant to see. And never in her life had she seen her father so upset. He yelled at her, and threatened her if she told anyone. But of course, she told her mum. Her mum in turn, looked angrier than ever, and she yelled at the girl's father before walking out the door. The little girl never saw her mum again—"

"Emmy, I don't know if I like this story."

She ignored Luke's comment and went on:

"Her father turned mean after that. He yelled at her too, and did worse if she didn't listen. It was then that she realized her father was a bad man. So the little girl, who really wasn't so little anymore, ran away, and was done with the man forever."

Luke sat there patiently waiting for the rest, but Emmy made no move to continue.

"Then what happened?"

She blinked and looked him up with melancholy eyes. "Nothing. That's the end."

"That can't be the end," said Luke, continuing the conversation partially to keep Emmy alert, but also because there had to be more to the story than that. "It's too sad of an ending."

"Stories don't have to have happy endings," said Emmy.

Ignoring her pessimism Luke went on, "The little girl's father said he loved her. Shouldn't he be reminded of that in the end, and apologize to his daughter?"

"You watch too many children's movies," there was a hint of tease in her voice, and it made Luke glad to hear the old Emmy returning.

"How could he hurt her if he loved her?"

"Maybe he didn't really love her."

"That's horrible."

"Yes. It's a sad story," said Emmy.

"But how could he not love her? She was his daughter."

"He was just that kind of a man."

A long pause followed, with Luke taking the time to think.

"Still, that can't be the end."

"But it is."

"You don't even find out what happens to the little girl!"

"I thought you weren't judging."

"I said I wouldn't laugh, but what you told was depressing," said Luke with a yawn. "What happens to the girl?"

"I…" her voice caught up. " I don't really know."

"Well, it's your story Emmy. Make it up. The girl deserves better."

She hesitated for a moment then: "If you want a better ending then you make it up."

"Fine," said Luke and he snuggled closer to her and told his idea of a suitable ending. "For a long time the girl was lost. So she went on adventures and made many friends along the way. Together they solved grand mysterious and ate lots and lots of candy. But she still felt sad about her past. Then one day she met a true gentleman and they became friends. This gentleman, he took her sadness away, made her feel happy, and like she truly belonged. Because of his kindness the girl remembered what it was like to feel loved. And together they were happy. The end."

After that, the two didn't say anything at all. There was the pitter-patter of rain on the roof, Emmy's shallow breathing, and eventually Luke's not so soft snores.

Emmy didn't feel like sleeping anymore. To put it bluntly, she was in too much pain, more than she had let Luke know. Telling him that story had –whether he realized it or not- helped a little. But Emmy still had so much going through her head.

Including Luke's ending.

"I suppose he was right," she said, picking up Luke's teddy bear. "My ending is kind of depressing isn't it?"

She liked Luke's take on the story, even if it sounded more like a fairy tale than real life with the happily-ever after, and the bit of how love came through for the girl when she found her man.

Emmy knew better than to dream of such an ending. Real life wasn't a story. Real life didn't end so perfectly.

_But why couldn't it?_

Before she could pursue the idea any further, the sound of the front door slamming shut echoed throughout the house, followed by a worried shout for two companions. Then some hasty footsteps came down the hall.

"Emmy?"

The eyes of a gentleman in a top hat met hers. Emmy's heart fluttered, and she felt herself slowly come apart from somewhere deep inside.


End file.
